Chapter 337 Entering the City
New Delhi is incredibly beautiful! Even more beautiful than Lucknow!
There are glass curtain walls everywhere, a whole piece of glass, on which Muna's shadow is reflected.
Wearing a clean white shirt, nice trousers and shoes, Muna had never seen himself look so impressive, like a senior employee in a bank building.
He kept telling himself that he was already a minister in a high position. He didn't need to care about other people's opinions and could walk into any glass curtain wall with his head held high.
But Muna still felt very guilty. A few months ago, he was still a servant and had not even been a minister for two months.
It still feels a bit awkward to ask him to hold his head high and chest out like those elites in suits.
After hesitating for a while, Muna decided to go to the nearby shopping mall.
Just like what the gentleman said, only after seeing the colorful world outside can he have the confidence to face anyone.
But before he could take a step, his assistant, Kishan, a young man from Kana Village, took the initiative to speak.
"Sir, let me go and get some information first." He was eager to try.
Muna paused slightly, "Don't cause trouble."
"Yes, sir."
Kishan came forward excitedly, while Munna stood on the street and looked at everything in New Delhi.
Before he knew it, he was also being called "Sir", which was truly a magical title.
It cured Muna's timidity, caution and fear, and taught him how to hold his head high and act with authority.
Outside the mall, there were a dozen or so drivers who looked like servants waiting. Since the masters were shopping inside, they were not allowed to enter, although no one had told them explicitly.
These people gathered in a circle next to the parking lot, chatting and smoking, and from time to time someone would spit out red betel nut residue.
Kishan, dressed in khaki uniform, came forward with a licking face.
"What do you want, Country Mouse?" asked the leader.
"Can I ask a question?" Kishan was not angry.
"No problem, ask. You know I'm always open to hearing about things, Country Mouse."
"This building, this place they call a shopping mall, this building with the posters of beautiful women hanging on it, sells things, right?"
"Yes."
"Anyone can come in?"
"Why do you want to go in?"
"Is it not possible? My master wants to buy something." Kishan said confidently.
A group of people laughed wildly, laughing with great joy.
"Listen here, country mouse. Your master might be able to come in, but you certainly can't."
"Why?"
"As a servant, you don't even know this? How can you think you can get away with anything just because you're in uniform?"
They started laughing again and said Kishan looked like a monkey in his uniform and that drivers in the city did not wear uniforms.
However, before they could say a few words, everyone's attention shifted to the shopping mall.
What happened over there? Actually, it was nothing. This kind of thing happened many times when shopping malls first appeared. The newspapers also reported it many times with the headline "Is there no place for the poor in the shopping malls of the new India?"
The glass doors of the shopping mall were open, but anyone who wanted to go in couldn't as the mall's security guard stopped him.
The guard pointed at his feet with his stick and shook his head. The man was wearing sandals, as were the driver and servants.
Only people wearing leather shoes were allowed to enter the shopping mall, so the man was stopped.
Normally, nine out of ten people in this situation would turn around and walk away. But the man in sandals suddenly erupted: "Am I not a human being?"
He roared so excitedly that his saliva flew everywhere and his knees trembled slightly.
A driver blew a whistle, and the cleaners sweeping the shopping mall square stopped their brooms and looked at them.
For a moment, the man looked like he was going to hit the guard, but he turned and walked away.
"This guy's got guts," one driver said. "If we were all like him, we'd own India. Those guys would just shine our shoes."
Then the drivers gathered in a circle again and continued to brag and chat.
In the distance, Muna looked down at his new shoes. They were the outfit he bought in Lucknow, and his master personally helped him choose them!
On the drive to New Delhi, he could feel the cotton lining of his shoes wrapped around his feet, which was very comfortable.
Muna walked to the entrance of the shopping mall and glanced at the security guard. For a moment, he almost wanted to turn around and leave.
He was wearing a brand new, clean white shirt, a pair of kurta pants common among Indian politicians, and high-end leather shoes with linings.
But Muna was still worried. He thought the guard at the front door would stop him and say, "You can't come in."
In the end, he might be caught and kicked out, and even get slapped in the face and humiliated in public.
Muna's mind was torn between his conscience and his desires, but he kept moving. He climbed the stairs one by one, approaching the glass doors of the shopping mall.
He went in! The guard didn't even look at him!
Even the drivers and servants not far away didn't notice this place, except Kishan.
Muna had already walked into the mall, but he hadn't completely relaxed yet.
He was sure someone would yell, "Hey! That guy was a former servant! What's he doing in here?"
There were security guards in gray uniforms on every floor of the mall, and Muna felt as if they were all staring at him.
This feeling was like a fugitive being suddenly pushed onto the street. The random glances of passersby would make him feel uncomfortable all over.
But he came in after all, and he felt everything in the mall for the first time.
The air was filled with the scent of perfume, everything was magnificent, and the air conditioner blew a cool breeze. No one paid any attention to him.
He saw elevators that seemed made of pure gold going up and down, and he saw the glass curtain walls of shops, each of which was hung with huge photos of handsome men and beautiful women in Europe.
If only Kishan could see this sight!
Kishan was chatting with the group of drivers outside, and he quickly integrated into the group of servants and drivers.
"How much can you get paid, country mouse?"
"Enough to spend. I'm quite happy."
"Don't want to tell me, country mouse? Good boy. Loyal to his master. Do you like Derry?"
"like."
"Ha! Stop talking nonsense, your sister. I know you're always getting lost, you must really hate this city!"
As he said this, he wanted to reach out and pat Kishan, but Kishan twisted his body backwards, not wanting to be touched.
The man had a skin disease, vitiligo, and on his coal-black face, the vitiligo had turned his lips a bright pink.
Kishan has seen this skin disease before, and many people in rural areas suffer from vitiligo.
He didn't know how they got this disease, but once they got it, their originally brown skin would gradually turn pink.
In nine out of ten cases, a boy develops a pink spot on the side of his nose or cheek, like a shining star.
Or a red spot may appear on the forehead, as if it had been scalded by boiling water.
But there are also some people whose whole body changes color. If you pass them on the street, you might think, "Wow! Is this an American?"
You stop and stare at him curiously, tempted to touch him, and then you realize he's just like us, just stricken with this horrible disease.
Take this driver, for example. Only his lips had changed color, like a circus clown wearing lipstick.
The sight of his face made Kishan sick to his stomach, but he was the only one among the group of drivers who was willing to talk to Kishan about anything, so the two of them stayed close to each other.
Since the driver with the vitiligo lips also came from a filthy place, he immediately guessed Kishan's origins and taught him a good lesson, telling him how to survive in Delhi instead of being driven back to his hometown lying on the roof of the bus in disgrace.
"My main impression of Delhi is that the roads are good, the people are bad, and the police are extremely corrupt. If they find you not wearing a seat belt, they will extort 100 rupees from you.
Our hosts aren't any better either; they're our nightmares when they party late at night.
If you sleep in a car, mosquitoes can eat you alive. If they are mosquitoes that spread malaria, it's not a big deal, but you just have to wait for a week or two of malaria.
But if you run into a mosquito that spreads dengue fever, you're dead.
You sleep until two in the morning, and then they come back, smash the car window, yell at you to wake you up, and drive you home.
They reek of alcohol and fart constantly, and you'll be suffocated along the way.
January is the coldest month, so if you know they're going to a late-night party, it's best to bring a blanket for warmth and mosquito protection.
If you're really bored waiting in the car, it's best to bring a book or something to read. You should be able to read, right? It's definitely a comfortable thing to read in the car."
As he spoke, he handed Kishan a magazine with a blonde in a bikini cowering in front of a man on the cover.
"Murder Weekly", priced at 4.5 rupees, exclusively presents true stories: "Beautiful bodies must not be wasted!" Murder, rape, revenge!
Before Kishan could take it, Munna appeared at the entrance of the shopping mall.
Still no one paid attention to him, the guard even saluted him!
"Sir." Kishan immediately trotted over.
"Let's go." Muna let out a sigh with a smile on his face.
Kishan wanted to ask what was in the mall but paused when he saw the look on Munna’s face.
How to describe that expression?
Well, it's like a country bumpkin from the lowest level of the filthy land suddenly spends a whole night with a white Western woman!
Yes, that's it.
Kishan became more and more curious about the things in the mall. He had never been to such a place.
After a little adventure on the streets of New Delhi, Munna began following Ron to visit the domes around Mount Resina.
The people sitting there are all the big figures of the country, the president, the general secretary, ministers, and officials. They may be discussing state affairs, drafting official documents, and reviewing files.
This one said, “Give another 500 million rupees to build a dam in that place!”
The other said, "Okay! Then let's attack the Baba Sheep!"
Things are certainly not that simple, but they are not that complicated either.
Muna feels that officials in New Delhi are no different from those in Uttar Pradesh, except that they are fatter and more powerful.
Now, with Mr. Sur, he would get his first glimpse into the code of conduct of New Delhi officials.
(End of this chapter)
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