Chapter 439: Ruthless
Mi Xin was stunned by the barrage of sticks. It was really beyond his expectation that the other side would attack him without saying a word.
After all, there are two or three hundred people on their side. If they fight back, they will not be able to escape unscathed.
However, the fact is that when the villagers of Lambada saw thousands of people rushing towards them, they instantly collapsed, and only a few people surrounded Mi Xin to resist.
Mi Xin screamed in anger, but was knocked to the ground by a few consecutive blows from the club.
Dabiati, who was in uniform, fought the most fiercely and cruelly, even though he was the youngest one.
Dabiyati has a baby face and is indeed a minor, but he is the one with the most work experience among Mohan's fellow villagers.
He worked for a year in a cotton mill in Ludhiana, Punjab, as a carpenter in a district in northeastern Arunachal Pradesh, and as a road construction worker in his hometown of Dhemaji for a year.
He even went to the Kerson Mill area, where he worked as a mechanic in a small auto repair shop.
Of all the jobs he had, he liked being a carpenter the most.
If he were free to pursue his dreams, he would like to settle down in his village and open a furniture store.
"He's a man with a great hand," Mohan had said earlier, "but no one in the village can afford to buy furniture. Maybe they'll only buy one every few years."
Dabiyati's optimistic attitude belies a family background that forced him to travel far and wide to work.
"His life is quite miserable," Mohan had told Devaram a few days ago.
He then began to narrate the story of Dabiyati, while the latter listened quietly, adding details from time to time.
Dabiyati lost both his parents when he was a child: his father, a mechanic, died of cancer, and his mother of what he calls "a fever."
Darby has three brothers and a sister. His eldest brother died a few years ago after drinking pesticide.
"My brother was a chicken farmer," Darby said, "but all his chickens got sick and died. He lost everything and felt life had lost its meaning, so he committed suicide by drinking pesticide."
After his eldest brother committed suicide by drinking pesticide, Dabi and his remaining siblings left their village.
They moved to Mohan's village, where Dabi's second and third brothers worked on a farm.
After a few years, they saved enough money and bought a small piece of land, but the income from farming was too little.
Most of the rice they grew was for their own consumption, so Dabi decided to work as a spinner to supplement the family income.
Darby's sister is studying and is now in grade 12.
"She's very clever," Darby said with a touch of romantic hope. "She's a good student and a great dancer. You must see her during the Sanctuary Festival."
Her three brothers worked hard to put her through school, believing that their sister had the best chance of escaping poverty and the tragic circumstances of her family, without having to work as a farmer or as a migrant worker.
Darby sends most of his salary home every month, as it costs a lot of money to buy study materials for his sister.
She had always wanted to attend an elite school in the county, but the tuition was too high and her brothers could not afford it.
Now the opportunity has come. As long as he can get Mr. Suer's appreciation, he may be able to become a regular employee.
That would mean his salary could double, with a host of mouth-watering hidden benefits.
Darby thought again of what happened last year, a dead boy.
Dabi lived in the same room with him and he was not Assamese but from some other region.
One day, he didn't show up for work, and Darby found him. He was lying there, but he was dead, with no injuries on his body. When the police came, they just asked a few questions and then left.
No one came to claim his body, and Darby and his family didn't know him.
So they pooled their money to bury him, and as for his luggage, they divided it among themselves.
Darby always remembered this incident. He believed that the boy died of illness, but the boy didn't know he was sick.
The place they live in is too dirty and they can't afford to see a doctor, so they can only endure it silently.
Darby was looking forward to the beautiful quarters that Mr. Soul had promised, especially now that the factory had an infirmary.
He believed that Mr. Suhr was a man of his word, unlike the previous factory owners.
Darby looked at the uniform he was wearing; it was too big for him. The uniform had a military belt and shoulder straps, but Darby looked less like a stern soldier and more like a kid in a school play.
Maybe, he is always so inconspicuous.
Dabi touched his waist and pulled out a dagger from his belt.
Mi Xin was knocked to the ground and everyone punched and kicked him. He could only raise his arms, close his eyes, and desperately protect his head.
Suddenly, his body shook, his expression showed pain, and his hand subconsciously touched his waist.
No one noticed, or no one cared, until blood started oozing from the corner of Mi Xin's mouth.
The beating gradually stopped, the crowd slowly retreated, and the scene became silent.
Mi Xin, who was surrounded in the middle, curled up on the ground with a large pool of blood on his waist.
His mouth was half open, unable to speak, and his body twitched from time to time.
Pushdeep and Karthik looked at each other and understood each other's meaning.
They waved and turned to leave, and the other workers quickly followed.
In just a moment, the scene of hundreds of people beating each other disappeared completely.
Mi Xin was still lying there alone until there was no one else at the intersection. Then several Lambada villagers came over carefully and carried him away.
…
"You mean it's settled?" Ron was a little surprised.
"Yes, no one will mention the strike again." Devaram nodded firmly.
"what happened?"
"It was just a minor accident. No one cares and the police won't intervene."
"Well, what about those Lambadas?" Ron didn't care about such trivial matters.
"We will gradually lay off workers over the next year, and from now on the steel mill will only hire workers from outside the area."
"Okay." Ron nodded, approving this approach.
He also felt that the locals were simply too nosy, and the title of "Mr. Soul" didn't work here.
Isn't our approach more reliable than those factory owners who are full of lies and only resort to violence?
There must be something hateful about a pitiful person. This statement is true in India.
In comparison, his loyal Uttar Pradesh is more lovable.
"By the way, what do you think about the Progressive Party?" Ron did not forget the business.
"I plan to set up a party branch in the steel plant."
"What?" Ron was stunned.
"Progressive Party branch."
Hiss, this name gave Ron a toothache.
He always felt that the street lights outside were slightly dazzling.
"Are you going to start with the workers?"
"This is the best choice. They are now very convinced of you." Devaram nodded in acknowledgment.
"They are migrant workers, and their voting rights still belong to their place of birth." Ron frowned.
The reason why the workers in this industrial area are not favored by local officials is that they do not have the right to vote in the local area.
If they can’t contribute votes for themselves, which voter will care about the life and death of these migrant workers?
"That's why we need you, Mr. Sur," said Devaram with a smile.
"What's the meaning?"
"The workers' dormitory you plan to build is a very good opportunity."
"You mean..." Ron gradually understood.
“The reason why workers today don’t have the right to vote is because they have no fixed residence and are migrants.
The dormitory behind the factory doesn’t count; it’s worse than a shack and there’s no way to get proof of residence.”
Indian law stipulates that citizens have the right to vote only if they are at least 18 years old and registered as voters.
One of the mandatory requirements for voter registration is to provide valid proof of residence.
The word "effective" is very complex. Simply put, it must be recognized by the local government.
Unfortunately, factory dormitories are not included in the government register.
Even the most avaricious inspector couldn't say that the dormitory area, which was like a garbage dump, was a valid place to live.
You can easily list a lot of non-conformities, there's nothing you can do.
If you insist on lying with your eyes closed and include these migrant workers as voters, your political opponents will never give up the opportunity to attack you.
In addition, including workers as voters means that they have the right to participate in local politics, which may not be agreed by local indigenous people.
This is a very complex issue and one of the reasons why the lives of migrant workers are so miserable.
But it would be different if there were formal dormitories, which meant that the workers had a fixed residence.
"You could just rent the dormitory buildings you've built to the workers, and then you could give them residency certificates, and that way they'd have votes."
"Workers having votes means they can vote for the party of their choice."
"Yes, what could be more suitable for them than the Progressive Party?"
"Devaram, you really surprised me."
"Mr. Sur, you are just too busy and don't bother with these trivial matters." Devaram smiled and shook his head.
"Okay, I'll leave this matter to you, including the recruitment of new workers."
"Sir, how many workers are you planning to hire?"
"The scale is expected to triple. Please contact Nambia for details. He will be responsible for the daily management of the factory."
"Yes, I will be here for the next few months." Devaram responded quickly.
Four or five thousand workers was a lot. With enough numbers to overwhelm the nearby village of Kusel, he would be sure to seize local political power in just a year or two.
Of course, the voters he is trying to win over are not just workers, but also nearby villagers.
Goa is not big and the difficulty of conquering it is much lower than that of the Hardoi region in Uttar Pradesh. Devaram is very confident about this matter.
Ron was inspecting a steel mill and unexpectedly encountered a strike, which he resolved unexpectedly.
This surprised him, but he was not too worried, because what India lacked the least was labor.
What Ron really cares about is the technological upgrade of the steel plant.
They began contacting a German company last year, and now, a year later, the renovation project is more than halfway complete.
It is expected that by next year, that is, the millennium, steel mills' output will increase by about 30%.
For heavy industry, this is already very impressive.
Ron wanted to inspect a few more iron mines, but he had to rush back to Mumbai halfway.
India's political drama is truly exciting.
It has only been a year, and we are already preparing to start another national election.
(End of this chapter)
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