Chapter 456 Identity
"Don't try to sell him women now," another driver interjected.
He squatted on the ground, shaking a bunch of his owner's car keys in his hand like a child playing with a toy.
"He just came from Uttar Pradesh and hasn't seen the world yet. Let him learn bad habits in the city first." After saying that, he snatched the magazine and read aloud.
The drivers who were chatting suddenly stopped talking and gathered around him to listen to him read the story.
The magazine he had taken was, of course, Murder Weekly.
"It happened on a rainy night. Vishal was lying in bed, his breath reeking of alcohol, his eyes fixed on the window. The woman next door had gone home and was planning to move out."
The driver with vitiligo suddenly shouted, "Hey! This happened today, too."
The driver holding the magazine was very annoyed by his interruption and read even more enthusiastically.
However, everyone's attention shifted to the shopping mall, which, like most malls in Delhi, is inaccessible to the poor.
A homeless man wearing sandals was stopped and the security guard would not allow him to enter through the glass door.
Ordinary people don’t have the courage to go into such a high-end shopping mall to shop, let alone homeless people?
Under the gaze of the guard's wooden stick, the homeless man turned and left.
"I thought he was going to beat up the security guard." Vitiligo said regretfully.
"He has no guts." The driver who was watching the fun shook his head.
A few minutes later the drivers gathered in a circle again and continued to listen to the story.
Barum saw that the key was still turning briskly on the key ring, a wisp of mist was rising above the cigarette butt, and red betel nut juice was spitting diagonally onto the ground.
The worst thing about being a driver is that you have too much free time when waiting for your boss.
To pass the time, you can chat with others, scratch your crotch, and read magazines full of murder and rape stories.
You can also develop a driver's habit, which really is like a kind of yoga pose, where you stick a finger up your nose and sit quietly for hours without any distractions. This is called "yoga for the dull driver."
You can also hide in the car and secretly drink some Indian liquor. The dullness and boredom have turned many honest drivers into alcoholics.
However, if the driver enjoys thinking, he will see the free time as an opportunity, and then the worst disadvantage of the job will immediately become its best advantage.
Barum was wondering why homeless people couldn't enter the mall and why he couldn't get a real blonde mare?
identity!
Both that homeless man and myself lack an identity that commands respect and admiration!
So what is identity? Barum looked down at his stained shirt.
People of status would definitely not wear this kind of clothes.
That night, while driving back to the apartment, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Satya wearing a T-shirt.
Barum certainly wouldn't buy that kind of T-shirt in the store because his T-shirt was completely white except for a small pattern in the middle.
He wanted to buy one with brighter colors and more letters or patterns printed on it, so that it would be more cost-effective.
So one night, after Satya and the blond horse went upstairs, Barum went to the nearby small market.
The yellow street lights had no lampshades. Under the glaring light, vendors squatted on the roadside selling all kinds of things. In the baskets in front of them were small commodities such as glass bracelets, iron bracelets, small toys, headscarves, ballpoint pens, key chains, etc.
Barum found the man selling T-shirts, but he was not very satisfied with the T-shirts he took out at first.
Later he took out an almost pure white T-shirt with an English word printed in the middle.
That's it!
Barum took it without hesitation and then went to find the person selling black leather shoes.
That night he also bought his first tube of toothpaste from the man selling betel nuts. Barum was his old customer.
He used to always buy betel nuts from him, and Barum knew that he also sold toothpaste, and the effects of the two products on teeth just canceled each other out.
Goddess Tooth Powder: Contains activated charcoal and cloves to clean and brighten teeth, priced at only Rs. 1.50.
As Barum brushed his teeth with his fingers, he paid special attention to the position of his left hand.
He has a bad habit of grabbing his crotch with his left hand.
How could a person of status do such a thing?
He wants to break this habit and pay attention to it all the time.
As a result, I saw that his left hand was like a lizard quietly climbing up the wall, and it had subconsciously placed itself on his groin, ready to start scratching.
He waited, and as soon as it moved, he caught it with his right hand.
Barum pinched the thick skin between his thumb and index finger, because that was where it hurt the most. He pinched hard for a full minute, and when he released it, a bloody mark had been left on the back of his hand.
Look, this is your punishment. Let’s see if you dare to grab my crotch again!
The toothpaste in his mouth had been rubbed into milky white foam and began to drip from the side of his mouth.
He quickly spat out the toothpaste.
Brush and spit, brush and spit.
Why hadn't my father told me not to scratch my crotch? Why hadn't he taught me to brush my teeth with this thick, milky foam? Why had he raised me only to let me live like an animal? Why did the poor have to live in such filthy, ugly places?
Brush and spit, brush and spit.
If only a person could let go of his past so easily!
Leila and Alice live in a top-floor apartment at the end of a crowded alley in south New Delhi.
Judging from the skin color of the pedestrians, most of them are from Northeast China, gathering together for safety.
The situation here is similar to other places in New Delhi. Most people are from the same hometown or caste and stick together.
Likewise, because it is close to the university, landlords are willing to make exceptions for some wealthy, high-caste Indian tenants.
Leila's apartment was small, accessed by a narrow staircase, where two rooms stood side by side like railway tracks, leading to the roof.
There is a narrow corridor turning from the room at the end, with the kitchen and bathroom on one side. Looking down from the roof, the rooms are close to each other.
The rent of this house is 3,500 rupees. The Punjabi landlady is very nice, but sometimes it depends on her mood.
Although Delhi is relatively expensive, Leila's current rent for her house is still higher than the market price.
The extra fees are an informal tax imposed by the city's landlords on the poor and minorities.
They know that these people are excluded in the city, so landlords can charge them higher rents and provide rather rudimentary facilities.
The cabin was decorated very practically, but the inner room was very crowded, with only a bed, an old-fashioned TV and a refrigerator.
This is where Leila and her two sisters sleep. They also have an older sister named Mary who lives here.
The outer room was much emptier, with only a bed where their brother slept at night.
Her brother is five years older than Leila and is not at home most of the time.
She also has an older half-brother who is married and lives in Imphal.
He also has a younger brother who is studying engineering at a private university in Bangalore. The expensive tuition fees have used up most of his parents' life savings.
The brother she lived with had a master's degree in sociology, but despite applying for numerous positions and taking countless exams, he still couldn't find a suitable job.
At this time, Mary and her brother were not in the apartment, only Leila and her sister were there.
The first thing Alice did when she returned to her room was to fiddle with the pair of Bulgari earrings in front of the mirror.
“It’s unbelievable that one day I’ll be able to wear such luxury,” she exclaimed.
"Yaar, it's very beautiful, but I suggest you keep it." Leila poured cold water on her.
"Why?" Alice asked unhappily.
"Aren't you going to take a youth course soon? How much is the tuition?"
"Ah, this... 37,000 rupees..." Alice looked at her secretly.
“So where does the money come from?”
"Hehe..." Alice walked over and hugged Leila's arm.
"I tell you don't even think about it. I'm paying for your college tuition. Use this pair of earrings as the registration fee. Girls like us are not suitable for such expensive things." Leila shut her mouth with one sentence.
"But I really like it." Alice pouted, and suddenly her eyes lit up.
"What are you planning?" Leila asked warily.
"Okay, I agree to sell the earrings to raise money for my course fees. But your bracelet..."
"I will sell it too. My father wants a motorcycle back home. He has been dreaming about it for years."
"No," Alice said anxiously, "This is Mr. Soul's reward for you. If he knew that his employee sold the reward, he would definitely be angry!"
"Really?" Leila hesitated, as if there was some truth to it.
"Of course, you have to wear them when the company has important events. They're medals. But when there aren't any events, can you lend them to me?"
"That's what you wanted to say." Leila rolled her eyes.
"Just tell me, Mr. Soul's gift can't be sold so easily."
"Yes, but you will have to support yourself from now on. After all these years, I can finally relax a little."
Leila took off her shoes, sat cross-legged on the bed and watched TV.
Alice looked a little sad. She had already graduated and had no excuse to live off her sister.
Today's trip to Sunshine City also opened her eyes. Those luxury stores, high-end restaurants, brand name clothing stores...
She also wanted to be a customer there, to be able to step into any store without any worries and feel safe and secure.
She wanted to walk in the mall with her head held high, live in a luxury apartment with a monthly rent of 10,000 rupees, and become a member of the Sunshine Smart City.
“I’m going there for an interview!”
"Huh?" Leila was startled by her.
"I've decided. I'm going to the Sunshine City office building for an interview in the next two days!" Alice clenched her fists.
(End of this chapter)
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