Chapter 182: Full of Martial Virtue
Mirzapur is a southeastern city in Uttar Pradesh. It is small in size and its population is only about one-fifth of Varanasi.
According to the Socialist Party's external propaganda, there is sufficient electricity, running water, and telephones are available here.
The children in the village have a fairly good diet, eating meat, eggs, vegetables, lentils, etc.
After taking out the tape measure and scale to check, I found that they were developing well and their height and weight met the minimum international standards.
Ha! This is what the Socialist Party calls Mirzapur, or rather, the entire Uttar Pradesh, which is carved out of this mold.
The reality is that the electric poles don't have electricity. The faucets don't produce water. The children are all skinny for their age, with heads that look oversized.
Those innocent eyes flickered as if torturing the conscience of the Indian government.
Ron looked around from the car and saw backward villages everywhere, which were very primitive.
The so-called electric poles were actually just wooden stakes with no wires attached. Instead, there were plenty of Socialist Party slogans, promising that electricity would be connected if elected.
The sign had turned pale and yellow, having been there for at least five or six years. But the pole still stood empty, forlorn and seemingly ready to fall over at any moment.
It's all a face-saving project. No Indian official would be stupid enough to fulfill his promise, especially in Uttar Pradesh.
Ron didn't go to the city of Mirzapur. He didn't know what the situation was like there, and he had no plans to go.
Today's itinerary is to a small village called Khanna, near which Mirzapur's largest limestone mine is located.
The car drove south along a tributary of the Ganges, and there was a road leading directly to the village.
Groups of pigs were rooting for food in the black gutters. Their backs were dry, their long bristles tangled together, and their bodies, soaked in mud and water, were shiny black.
Several roosters with bright red combs and golden feathers were flying up and down on the roof.
There is a cow in front of every household, and women are cutting grass to feed the cows. Their hopes are all pinned on the fat of the cows.
If the milk production is sufficient, women can sell some, hoping to get a little more money in return.
The buffalo is huge, with shiny fur. The iron ring on its nose is as thick as a child's arm, and there is always pearl-like foam hanging from the corners of its mouth.
It is the most important member of the whole family, and even the pile of horrible cow dung under its body is a treasure.
"There's a limestone mine in this shabby place?" Ratan fiddled with his pistol boredly in his seat.
"The reserves are said to be hundreds of millions of tons, which is nothing for the entire India, but one thing is very important."
"What?" Ratan asked.
"Most of Mirzapur is flat, except for a few small hills nearby, which means mining is much easier."
Transportation is one of the core supporting facilities for mining. Even if cement is processed on site, it still has to be transported out in the end.
Ron had looked up information about this place long before buying the mine. It's a plain area, what a wonderful place.
"By the way, we're just here to take a look. Why did you bring so many people with you?"
Ron was in a sedan, and right behind them was a van with more than twenty people crammed inside.
They all carry guns, ranging from Glock pistols to AKs.
"Ron, this is Uttar Pradesh. Don't treat going out as a leisurely trip." Ratan smiled and clicked the bolt a few times.
"Is it that serious?"
“Mirzapur is not Varanasi, and we are all from the East.”
"Oh, the crazy East," Ron sighed.
His hometown was full of martial virtues, so what could he do? Even Ron himself was given a brand new Beretta 92 series pistol by Ratan.
This thing costs more than 800 US dollars each. It was obtained from an officer in Uttar Pradesh. Only he and Ratan are equipped with it.
"Look at this color and the feel. It's more fascinating than a woman's skin." Ratan raised his pistol and aimed left and right.
"Put it away. There's a teahouse up ahead. Let's go there and get some information." Ron pointed to the shed at the intersection.
Tea shops are everywhere in the rural areas of Uttar Pradesh. They are not only the activity centers of the villagers, but also the distribution centers of information.
The honking sound startled the rickshaw drivers around the tea shop. They thought the honey badger had come to collect their dues again.
After seeing that it was a car they had never seen before, they were eager to go forward, as unfamiliar faces represent potential customers.
Muna also noticed the car outside, it was not a bus, nor was it a Honey Badger Ambassador.
This is rare. There are few outsiders visiting Kana Village all year round, let alone driving a car.
The car door opened and a young man got out.
The tea shop owner, the rickshaw puller, and everyone, including Munna, held their breath.
There are people in the world who are so good-looking!
Muna had only a few years of education, so he didn't know how to describe it.
In short, the young man's body was like a high-end cotton pillow, white, soft, and without any scars.
Their bodies were completely different. For example, Muna's father's spine looked like sections of hemp rope, the kind used by the women in the village to draw water from the well.
His collarbone stuck out like a dog's collar.
This young man must be from the legendary high caste!
Almost everyone came to their conclusion instantly. The two beasts from Kana Village looked like country bumpkins in front of him.
Although honey badgers and crows are landlords, they are not high castes, not even Kshatriyas.
Vaishyas can also become local landlords, but they do so through bribery and the guns in their hands.
This is a Brahmin!
The rickshaw drivers stopped and dared not move forward.
They are Shudras and have no right to talk to Brahmin masters.
After Ron got off the car, Ratan also got off with a pistol in his hand. His appearance made the people in the tea shop become like dumb and they dared not even breathe.
"What can these low castes know? They may not even have their own names." Ratan muttered.
Brahmin sir, you are absolutely right! Muna, who was standing at the door, agreed secretly.
"Munna" means child in Hindi, which is not a name at all.
His parents have always called him that and never thought about giving him a name, or they didn't know how to give him one.
Muna recalled the scene of his first day at school.
The teacher asked them to line up and go to the desk one by one to register their names.
When he told the teacher his name, he looked up and stared at him in amazement.
"Muna? That's not really a name."
"But this is the only name I have," he said.
"Didn't your mother give you a name?"
"She was very ill, sir. She was bedridden, vomiting blood all the time, and she had no time to give me a name."
"What about your father?"
"He's a rickshaw driver, sir. He didn't have time to give me a name."
"Do you have a grandmother? Do you have any uncles or aunts?"
"They don't have time either."
The teacher turned around and spat out a mouthful of betel nut juice, and the bright red juice sprayed onto the floor of the classroom.
He licked his lips. "Well, I'll have to give you a name, won't I?"
He smoothed his hair. "Uh, just call yourself Balram. You know whose name that is, right?"
"I don't know, sir."
"He is a loyal companion of Krishna, the cow-herding god. Do you know my name?"
"I don't know, sir."
He laughed, "My name is Krishna."
The name Balram was too long, and Muna dropped out of school early, so in the end he became the child's "Muna".
Oh, here comes that Brahmin sahib!
Look at his shoes, aren't those the legendary camel-skin tanned boots?
I really want to get down and kiss his feet!
Muna was stunned, his eyes seemed to have lost focus.
"Who's in charge of this area?" Ron threw over a few coins.
"What?" Muna stammered, staring at the coin in his elbow.
Those were five 2-rupee coins! They were enough to get him to watch another performance of "Hymn to Durga Puja"!
"Sir, I know!" The tea shop owner jumped out and reached for the coin in Muna's arms.
"They are two beasts!" Muna bent his back, protecting the money tightly and shouted.
Huh! Laughter rang out all around, and Ron was a little stunned.
Two beasts? Someone still calls them that?
"It's a honey badger and a crow, sir!" Muna answered quickly as he hurriedly hid the money.
"Are these two guys in gangs?" Ratan asked.
Anyone with a nickname like that doesn't sound like a good person.
"They are the landlords of Kana Village. The surrounding land and hills are all theirs." Muna's chest was pounding.
He is very arrogant now, he is a Brahmin master.
Ron and Latan looked at each other and thought, "Okay, they are the ones."
"How many honey badgers and crows are there?" Ratan asked directly and maliciously.
"I don't know, sir. They have more than a dozen servants in their house, and there are some workers on the mountain."
"Workers?" Ron keenly grasped the key point.
“Those workers helped him collect lime and then sold it to people in the city to build houses.”
Well, the lime business is already underway.
"Ron, it looks like those two guys aren't going to give in."
Ratan was a smart man. He knew that once a businessman tasted the sweetness of profit, he would never give up.
"Let's meet with them first and talk to them. We can't just go and kill them directly. By the way, where is their home?" Ron asked again.
"Near the town, go southeast, about a kilometer or two."
Muna knew everything and wanted to tell Ron and the others where the two beastly children went to school.
No one has ever bothered them over the years. Such opportunities are rare.
"Don't waste your words," Ratan waved his hand nonchalantly. "Just tell them to get out. That's our mine."
"Doing business in Uttar Pradesh is completely different from doing business in Mumbai," Ron shrugged.
They didn't have to come to the door, as two cars drove over from a distance.
Beep, the leader is the Honey Badger’s ambassador car!
The rickshaw pullers scattered and the tea drinkers under the awning also slipped away quietly.
Only the tea shop owner and Muna couldn't leave. One of them had all his belongings here, and the other just wanted to watch the fun.
The short and fat honey badger got out of the car in a menacing manner, and his brother Crow also had a gloomy expression, and both of them had pistols on their waists.
More than a dozen thugs also got out of another car behind them, some holding knives, some holding sticks, and all of them looked ferocious.
Ron laughed and Ratan whistled softly.
The people in their van haven't gotten out yet.
(End of this chapter)
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