Chapter 184: Thunder and Storm
"I say, why is it so exaggerated? We are doing preliminary exploration, not fighting a war."
"Ron, you don't understand. In Uttar Pradesh, you have to rely on your weapons, otherwise those people won't respect you."
Click, Ratan pulled the bolt, heard the crisp sound of the spring mechanism, and threw the submachine gun in his hand to the men beside him with satisfaction.
The Sul family's private armed forces have completed a complete makeover.
The old homemade revolvers, Nepalese knives, and hunting rifles have all been replaced with modern standard weapons.
From the famous AK to the small and flexible submachine gun, to the Glock pistol that is standard equipment for Indian police officers, they are all high-end products.
There are dozens of people in the team in total, and now they have upgraded their weapons and each of them has a weapon in his hand.
Of course, in order to purchase this batch of arms, money is inevitable, almost 8 million rupees.
The Soul family couldn't come up with that much cash, so Ron paid for most of the expenses himself.
He never skimped on security, and the family's armed forces were his backing.
Uttar Pradesh is a place of outstanding people and beautiful scenery. Ron was not naive enough to bring the business model of Mumbai here.
The correct way to open it is to adapt to local conditions and follow local customs.
But when Ron saw a truck full of armed men, he couldn't hold it back.
Yes, this time we are going to Mirzapur by van. No, vans are included, but they are no longer the mainstay.
Ratan got two large trucks from somewhere, and stuffed dozens of people into the back of each truck.
If you don’t know the situation, you might think that some anti-government armed group is preparing to launch a riot.
So hardcore!
"Just wait and see, Ron, those two guys will be scared to death!"
Ratan waved his hand, and the rumbling truck started up. The animals behind it shouted excitedly.
These family members have no idea of fear, or they have long been accustomed to it.
Living in Uttar Pradesh is like living on a knife edge.
Gangs are rampant here, with the highest number of murders in India, and killing and being killed are very common.
The distorted and pathological living environment makes the lower class people madly worship violence.
For them, upgrading their weapons to new ones without fighting a single battle is not enough to vent their inner excitement.
Ron rubbed his forehead and got into the car helplessly. He did not go with Ratan, but followed in the sedan at the back.
In the front row were Anil and another personal bodyguard, and in the back row sat an exploration expert invited from Lucknow.
In Ratan's words, when it comes to fighting, he's more professional than Ron.
Well, I hope those two beasts will know what’s good for them.
The huge convoy headed south, and the sky over Mirzapur was covered with dark clouds.
Boom! The crow was startled by the sudden thunder, but soon sat up straight again.
"Kalinbai, I urgently need this batch of goods. You must help me." He prayed with his hands clasped together.
"You're not asking for a small amount of money. With so many guns, who are you going to fight against?" The figure in the main seat spoke in a low voice.
Kalin Tripathi, the underground king of Mirzapur, is known as Kalinbai.
The entire city's gray business is under his jurisdiction, including arms, hemp, usury, and killer business.
Whenever his name was mentioned, everyone was terrified and dared not disobey in the slightest.
Legend has it that anyone who comes to Mirzapur for business must first pay their respects here, and no one is allowed to "shoot" without his permission.
Crow was just a small country landlord, and he was very humble in front of the famous Kalinbai.
"Kalimbhai, the people of Varanasi are coming to take away my territory, which has belonged to the Kasa family for generations. I have no choice but to fight back."
"Varanasi? What are they doing here?"
"I don't know. They have guns and are coming in a very aggressive manner."
Crow didn't tell the truth because he was afraid that the limestone mine would attract Kalinbai's attention.
For so many years, Crow has been doing this business privately and making a fortune quietly.
In addition, according to the rules of the underworld, as long as he did not ask for help, Kalinbai would have no reason to interfere in his business.
The underground world has its own order, and Kalinbai, who sits on the throne, even has to personally maintain the operation of this order.
"The factory doesn't have much stock. If you want to pick it up now, you have to pay extra." Kalinbai picked up the teacup and took a sip.
"If I want the price now," Crow said cautiously.
"300,000 rupees. I'll have someone take you to the warehouse."
"Okay!" The crow gritted his teeth and agreed.
This was almost half of his family fortune. As a small landlord in the countryside, he didn't have much surplus food.
Kalinbai tilted his head and signaled the big man beside him to take Crow to get the goods.
In order to cover up his arms business, Kalinbai specially opened a small copper factory.
Making copper is fake, but making arms is real.
Yes, Kalinbai’s weapons are not imported from other places, they are all handmade by themselves.
The added value of the bullets is not high, and most of them are cheap goods obtained from the military.
When Crow followed the tall man to the warehouse, the workers outside were clanging and banging on a red-hot gun barrel.
No lathe, no die-casting machine, only hammers, purely handmade.
"Are these guns all right?" he asked.
"A gun costs several thousand rupees. What do you expect to buy? An AK?"
The tall man's words silenced the crow. Of course, in the arms business, you get what you pay for.
Want to buy a nice imported gun? Fine, just keep adding money. An AK, a star of the arsenal, won't cost less than 80,000 rupees.
Of course, Crow was not so extravagant. He wanted a large quantity, and also wanted consumables such as bullets.
Revolver, double-barreled shotgun, long-barreled rifle. Three hundred thousand rupees is already very scarce, so I can only choose cheap local products.
But after seeing the rough gun barrel, Crow still felt a toothache.
I don't know if this thing is reliable, but the muzzle is scary thick.
Crow waved his hand to let the people below move the goods, and paid the money happily.
He was greedy, but not stupid. The most important thing was to keep what he had, and he could earn money later.
Outside, Honey Badger was waiting for him in a truck. They were also full of people and could be armed immediately after getting the guns.
Boom, another muffled thunder.
Muna looked up at the sky curiously. The rainy season had just passed, why was it going to rain again?
"You little bastard, you're slacking off again!" The tea shop owner chased after him with a big spoon.
"I didn't. It's going to rain. I came out and moved the stove inside!"
"You lied! The rainy season is long gone. You're just like your father, stubborn and stubborn, always thinking about escaping the village. In the end, you're dead!"
Muna was running, and he could hear the angry roar of the tea shop owner in his ears.
There were many people in the small square in front of the teahouse, including rickshaw drivers and idle teenagers, all of whom were laughing and making fun of Muna.
Muna was once one of that group of teenagers. They were waiting here for only one thing: to leave.
Whenever they saw a truck passing through the square, the teenagers would run toward it, holding out their hands and shouting, "Take me! Take me!"
After a while of pushing and shoving, six or seven people would squeeze into the car, and the rest would wait for another car.
The few guys who managed to escape were working as construction workers or excavators. They were all lucky guys who were able to escape from this primitive village.
Every two hours of waiting, another truck would arrive, and then there would be another round of scrambling and pushing.
Muna was once very lucky to squeeze to the front. The driver was a Sikh and wore a blue turban on his head.
He held a wooden stick in his hand and waved it to command the crowd to retreat.
"Listen up!" he roared. "Take off your shirts! If you want a job, I need to see if you're fit enough!"
The driver examined Muna's chest, slapped his butt, looked him in the eyes, and then slashed his thigh with a stick. "Too skinny! Fuck you! Get out!"
"Give me a chance, sir! I may be thin, but I'm strong! I can dig the soil, I can move cement, I can do it too..." Muna pleaded.
The driver swung the stick and hit Muna's left ear. He squatted down holding his ear, and the people behind him immediately rushed over and took his seat.
Muna sat on the ground, rubbing his ears, watching the truck speed away, kicking up a cloud of dust.
He cried loudly. He wanted to leave here, even if it meant being covered in wounds like his father.
Yes, Muna still remembers his father’s body.
His body was covered with scars, from his chest down to his waist, then to his hips and arms. Everywhere he touched was covered with wounds and scars of varying sizes, like marks carved on his body by the whip of time.
Reality wrote a history of the lives of the poor on his father's body, with the pen as sharp as a knife, penetrating deep into the flesh.
Muna is not afraid of becoming like his father, as long as he leaves here.
He knew that with those two beasts around, the people in the village would never have a chance to succeed.
The honey badgers and crows did not treat them as human beings, but as servants and slaves, and could take whatever they wanted from them.
When the fisherman couldn't pay his share of the money, they got his daughter pregnant.
Muna's cousin couldn't save enough for her dowry and wanted to borrow money from a loan shark, but she was forced to stay with the crow and then became pregnant.
Although the child was aborted, it would be difficult for his cousin to find a good family again.
A bachelor whose wife had died was willing to give in, but only if he prepared a large dowry.
Difficult! Life in Kana Village will drive Muna crazy sooner or later.
He hated the two beasts; all the suffering was caused by them.
Beep, beep, there's a horn sound.
Is that the bus from town?
In fact, Muna doesn't have to leave the village, as long as he lives like a human being.
What does it mean to live like a human being? For Muna, perhaps it means being like Vicha, the bus conductor.
The bus would stop at the tea shop door for half an hour. After the passengers got off, the conductor Vicha would also get off to have a cup of tea.
He was the object of admiration of all the people working in the tea shop here. He wore a khaki uniform issued by the company with a silver whistle tied to his pocket with a red rope, looking very impressive.
Everything about him told people that he had made a name for himself.
Vicha's home is also in the village. It's like a pigsty and is the real bottom of the society.
But he is successful now, and somehow he has established a relationship with an official.
It is said that he exchanged his body and then everything went smoothly for him.
Being a conductor was a good job, with a beautiful silver whistle in his hand that he would blow when the train started.
At this time, the children in the village would run after the car like crazy, banging on the body of the car and shouting for it to take them away too.
Muna longed to be like Vicha, a man with a uniform, a regular salary, and a shiny whistle around his neck that blew when blown.
Then everyone looked at him as if to say, "Look, what an important person!"
This is Muna's dream, to live like a human being.
Beep! More horn sounds.
Huh? It's not the town bus, there are several cars.
Muna turned his head and slowly opened his mouth.
The tea shop owner, tired from running, held his knees and laughed at him, but soon he could no longer laugh.
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
