Chapter 203 Chada
The air in New Delhi is indeed bad, worse than in Mumbai.
What makes Mumbai unbearable is the mixed stench of various things, which belongs to nature.
Mumbai is also close to the Arabian Sea, so the air is pretty good for a few months during the monsoon.
But New Delhi is different. It is located inland and the exhaust pollution from cars and motorcycles is very serious.
Most people living here are already accustomed to wearing masks, and they firmly believe what is said in the newspaper: breathing the air in New Delhi is enough to shorten your life by ten years!
Ron and his friends were going to the Congress headquarters today, but they got stuck in traffic on the way.
The traffic was so dense that even motorcycles couldn't get through. People were supporting themselves on one foot, and then matches were struck one by one.
The flickering orange-red Mars added a bit of cigarette smoke pollution to the air that was already severely polluted by car exhaust.
A bullock cart was parked in front of Ron and the others. On the cart were a bunch of empty barrels of motor oil, tied to the cart with ropes, about five meters high.
The buffalo in front was panting heavily, I don’t know if it was because of tiredness or because it was choked by the air of New Delhi.
"Is it like this every day in New Delhi?" Ron frowned.
"If there's no traffic jam in this damn place one day, it must be because the sheep from the north are attacking and people are fleeing to the south," Ratan complained.
"I see a lot of road construction going on out there. It's going to get better, right?"
"Ha, construction on that road has been stopped for a long time." Ratan sneered.
"Why?"
"The official in charge of that project was arrested. He allegedly embezzled a bribe from a contractor to his supervisor. The supervisor didn't get the money, and the contractor doesn't want to pay again. The two sides are at a stalemate. Now it depends on who has more fortitude."
"No one cares?"
"Of course I do. Wasn't that unreliable middleman arrested?" Ratan asked curiously.
"No... I'm talking about that road." Ron was numb. The two of them were completely on different channels.
"Don't worry, someone will compromise. Construction will resume in six months at most. But it's not easy for outsiders to interfere. This is a deal between the contractor and the officials."
"This is Derry," Ron lamented.
"That's right, the people in this country are all half-baked. The capital of a certain big country in the East has three ring roads, but we only have one. No wonder we haven't caught up with them yet."
Ron smiled bitterly. What kind of sweet dream was that? Catching up? It would be good if New Delhi could maintain its current upward momentum.
A rickshaw driver next to the Civic suddenly started coughing violently, turned his head and spat three times in a row. His spit splashed on the side of Ron's car. Ishan glared at him and shook his fist at him.
The rickshaw driver bowed and bowed, clasped his hands together and apologized here, and only then did Ishan forgive him.
"It's like a spitting convention!" The coughing sounds coming from outside made Ratan very disgusted.
"I wonder when we can get to the Parliament Building today?" Ron sighed.
Being stuck in traffic in New Delhi is like being in prison; you can't even open the window.
Fortunately, half an hour later, the car finally squeezed into the center of the city.
To their left was the dome of the General's House, and to their right was a huge bronze statue of Gandhi.
The air was very bad and filled with smoke, making it impossible to see the full view of these iconic buildings.
The headquarters of the Congress Party is also nearby and is easy to find. There are always two or three large billboards outside with Sonia Gandhi's portrait printed on them.
However, they seemed to have come at the wrong time. A large group of farmers blocked the headquarters and were not allowed to enter.
They shouted slogans in an angry mood, which were about reducing land rent and taxes.
A car from a TV station drove over, honked the horn a few times, and several guards came out to escort the car inside.
Some farmers tried to follow the car into the headquarters, but were beaten out by the guards with clubs.
"We came at the wrong time today." Ratan also looked sad.
Who would have thought that this would coincide with farmers' protests? Judging from their appearances, they probably won't give up anytime soon.
Ron called the assistant of the Chief Minister of Maharashtra in advance and the two sides agreed on a time, but now he couldn't even get through the door.
"Anil, go get some information."
"Yes, Master."
Anil squeezed into the crowd, and Ron raised his wrist to check. It was two o'clock in the afternoon.
"You like shiny things now?" Ratan joked.
"When doing business, you have to make them believe that you have enough strength." Ron shrugged.
He was wearing a gold watch on his wrist, a gold watch in the literal sense, and it was dazzling from the wristband to the dial.
Indian businessmen are so extravagant that they would like to replace the mirrors in their homes with gold ones.
You can't do business here by being low-key. The more you show off your wealth, the easier it is to get a contract.
Ron follows the local customs and his watches, tie pins and rings are made of pure 24K gold.
The value of that watch alone is several hundred thousand rupees, which is quite generous.
"It looks good." Ratan also likes gold.
"You want it?"
"Yeah, I want a golden pistol. That would be so cool!"
Ron smiled bitterly. This was indeed in line with Latan's aesthetic.
As he spoke, Anil had already emerged from the crowd.
"Master, these are farmers from Haryana. The landlords there are taking too high a cut, and the tenants can't pay back the high-interest loans. Four or five hundred farmers have been forced to commit suicide."
"Did you hear that, brother? There is no future in farming. Hemp is the future of Indian farmers." Ratan turned his head.
"Yes, but we have better options. The mining business is better than farming, whether it's growing sugarcane or hemp."
"You've gone astray. If I were the master of the Zongtong Mansion, I would definitely allocate funds to encourage farmers to grow hemp, which is the best cash crop."
"The country will be in chaos." Ron couldn't help laughing.
"India is already in chaos, it won't get any worse. What do you say now, go back?"
"It's the only way. The farmers are furious."
Beep! There's a horn outside.
Ron and the others turned around and saw a Cadillac Wood II extended version slowly approaching.
The theater-style car windows were lowered, revealing a large head wrapped in a green turban.
"Is it the Soule family? Aha, Ron, right? I've seen you in the newspaper."
"Hello, Mr. Chadha." Ron had heard Ratan's reminder in his ear.
"Are you coming to headquarters too?"
"Yes, but the timing is bad."
"Let's have a drink together. These low-lifes have the patience to waste time here, but I don't have the time. Come, get in my car. I have some good whiskey."
Ponty Chadha, the money bag of Minister Yadav, whose Chadha Liquor Company almost monopolizes the entire liquor business in Uttar Pradesh.
He also owns the Wave Construction Company. Yes, Ron's branch factory in Varanasi was contracted to him.
Chada was very enthusiastic and didn't seem to mind at all about the business failure.
Ratan had also met him twice. They were both from Uttar Pradesh, so the two brothers got into Chadha's luxury stretch car.
A true luxury car, it has all kinds of comfortable configurations, including audio system, air conditioning, and luxurious leather seats.
There is also a refrigerator, wine cabinet and bar in the back row, providing VIP service comparable to that of a head of state.
"The newspaper says you are a hero of Mumbai! Haha, it's so interesting that a person from Uttar Pradesh has become a hero of Mumbai. Come, we need to have a good drink."
Chada ordered his servant to open the wine cabinet, which contained wines produced by his own company. There were various shapes and styles, most of which imitated the packaging of high-end foreign wines.
One of his hands hung at his side, and the other was missing two fingers. It was said that he was electrocuted by a high-voltage power line while flying a kite as a child.
"That was a long time ago. The Mumbai media just loves to make a fuss." Ron smiled and shrugged, his eyes moving past without lingering on his arm.
"That's the way it should be, man. We need to show the people of Mumbai how powerful Uttar Pradesh is."
The three of them raised their wine glasses and clinked them together.
Chadha Liquor's whiskey is just average. Rich people won't appreciate it, but the middle class or poor might like it.
"Excellent!" Ron said hypocritically. "Actually, I should apologize to Mr. Chadha. The branch factory in Varanasi was an accident."
"We called, didn't we?" Sadaq said unconcernedly. "Commissioner Aditya also helped me a lot."
The dam that Uncle Ron was in charge of was built by Inspur Company, and there was much more money to be made here than in his branch factories.
It was also because of this relationship that Chada took the initiative to invite Ron and others to get in the car.
"I heard from the minister that you're planning to build a cement factory. That's great! I need really good cement, lots and lots of it."
"As long as Mr. Chadha needs it, we will certainly do our best to supply Inspur."
“When will the cement plant start production?”
"About a year and a half."
"It's too slow. As long as you spend some money, it will only take half a year."
"Half a year?"
"Those untouchables are useless alive, so why not throw them all into the mines? If you're willing to spend money on them, you'll have an endless supply of cement."
"I'll consider it." Ron sighed secretly. In Uttar Pradesh, untouchables are expendable.
"Let's go find some fun." Chada patted the front seat and the car started.
Chadha, a Punjabi Sikh, is tall with a pronounced beer belly and wears international brands.
He was only thirty-five or thirty-six, still very young. His so-called fun meant taking Ron and the others to a rave party in New Delhi.
India's wealthy love to party, and there are raves every night around Connaught Place.
Chada was a regular customer here, and he introduced those blonde and blue-eyed foreign girls to Ron in a boastful manner.
It's strange that Indian men seem to be particularly attracted to white women.
Yadav's assistant was like this yesterday, and Chadha, who has become a wealthy man, is still like this.
The party was filled with whiskey, women, and weed. Ron made few connections, but he drank a lot.
By the time they came down from upstairs, it was already midnight. December is the coldest season in New Delhi.
"We should go back." Ron said goodbye to him.
"It's freezing cold out here! Do you have air conditioning in your car? Take my car! Hey, don't drive that lousy Civic.
In New Delhi, if you ask someone for help, the first thing they look at is your car. If you drive an Ambassador or a Tata, you're guaranteed to get no response.
Come, try this American thing. It'll give you the same thrill as a white woman!
Chadha moved the driver to the back seat, leaving the driving seat vacant.
"No, I've been drinking and can't drive." Ron said with a dizzy head.
"Oh my God, all the drivers in New Delhi are drunks. Don't look at my one hand, but I can drive fast." Chadha laughed and got into the driving seat himself.
Ron was invited to sit next to him, so that, as Chada put it, he could feel the force.
The Cadillac roared to life on the streets late at night, and the Chada shifted into the highest gear, speeding all the way through one red light after another.
"Well, Ron, isn't that fucking cool!" He turned around.
Suddenly, a small black shadow jumped into the middle of the road.
"careful!"
Bang!
The black shadow was knocked away and then run over.
(End of this chapter)
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