Chapter 464 Mr.
Satya looked so miserable at this moment that Ron could hardly recognize him.
His entire head was in pieces, and black and red blood was splattered everywhere like oil.
Several people hurriedly carried him to the hospital, shouting and yelling.
There were many people watching the fun, and whispers could be heard. Words like "official" and "minister" appeared from time to time.
Ron didn't know how he ended up like this, but it was obvious that he was beyond help.
Even if he is still alive, there is no way to save him. If he enters this hospital, even a good person will be killed, let alone a dying person.
He was just curious about what was going on.
Fast forward a week, and Barum was waiting outside the shopping mall with the drivers as usual.
He was quietly observing the glass door, observing those people who could come and go freely without being noticed by the guards.
He imagined himself putting on a pure white T-shirt, jeans, and black leather shoes, and striding into the shopping mall, preferably with a blonde, white woman by his side.
"Country mouse, let me show you something good." A driver came over.
"What?"
"Look at this."
The driver, who usually liked to shake his keys, had a cell phone in his hand and forced Barum to look at his new phone.
"Are you using this to call your wife?"
"You can't call anyone with this, you idiot. This phone is for incoming calls, not outgoing calls!"
"What's the point of having this phone if you can't call your family?"
"This phone has a special purpose. The owner can call me at any time and tell me where to pick him up. No matter where I am, I just need to carry this thing with me."
He took the phone back, wiped it carefully, and put it back in his pocket. Before this day, his status among drivers had always been very low because his master's car was a Suzuki Maruti.
Today he finally got what he wanted and felt proud of himself. The drivers were scrambling to pass his phone around, like a group of monkeys curiously staring at something shiny.
Suddenly, a smell of ammonia wafted through the air. It turned out that a driver was peeing not far from us.
Vitiligo lips stared at him in a corner: “Country mouse, you seem to have something to say.”
Barum shook his head.
At ten o'clock in the evening, Barum walked out of Windsor Apartments, turned a corner and walked into the market.
Only one shop in the market was still open. Outside the shop hung a large sign with two lines of large characters written in Hindi:
"Action" British liquor store, selling foreign liquor produced in India.
The store was as lively as ever, like a war every night: the buyers were clamoring and pushing each other, everyone with their arms stretched out and shouting for drinks.
Amid the noise, the waiters at the counter couldn't hear what the customers wanted at all, and as a result, they repeatedly brought the wrong drinks, which led to louder noises and more intense pushing and shoving.
Barum pushed through the crowd, walked to the counter, slammed his fist on it, and yelled, "Whiskey! The cheapest! Hurry up! Or someone's going to get beaten! I swear!"
It took him fifteen minutes to buy the bottle, which he stuffed down his trouser leg because he had nowhere else to hide it, and then he returned to the basement of his Windsor apartment.
"Barum, you're quite laid back."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"You don't look well, Barum. Are you sick?" Satya came over.
"Yes, sir, I have a headache. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Your mouth tastes of anise."
"What?"
"Some people chew fennel to mask the taste of alcohol. Did you drink alcohol?"
"No sir, I had pancakes this morning."
"Really?" He kept sniffing, getting closer and closer to me.
Barum took a deep breath, held it in his stomach for a while, and then forced the breath out with a burp, spraying it directly into his face.
"This is disgusting, Barum." With a look of horror on his face, he stood up and took two steps back.
"I'm sorry, sir."
“Get out!”
Barum came out in a cold sweat.
The next day, Balum drove to the Delhi station to pick up Ramal, who is Aditya's cousin, also from the Yadav caste, and a powerful figure in the party.
This trip to Delhi was also to build connections, as they wanted to win an agricultural support project in Uttar Pradesh.
The core interests of the Yadav family lie here, and the two brothers attach great importance to it.
As soon as Lamar walked out of the station, Barum happily handed him a pancake.
He knew that this was Lamar's favorite thing to eat, so Barum took out the potatoes sandwiched in the pancake in advance and threw them on the railroad tracks.
Because Lamar tends to fart after eating potatoes, and he hates farting.
A servant should know his master's stomach from head to toe, from mouth to sphincter.
Lamar held the scone and leered at Barum.
"Boy, let me ask you a few questions."
"You say, sir." He squatted down in front of the car.
"Barum, you are not in the filthy land now."
"Yes, sir."
“Delhi has its own rules.”
"Yes, sir."
"You know those statues of Gandhi and Nehru that are everywhere in the city? The police have installed cameras in their eyes to monitor cars on the road. They can see everything you do, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Then he frowned, as if wondering what else to say, "Don't use the air conditioner when you're driving alone."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't play music when you're driving alone."
"Yes, sir."
"Every day when you come back from driving, you have to report the odometer reading so that we know you are not using the car secretly."
"Yes, sir."
Lamar muttered to himself, still trying to decide how to check on the driver.
Barum felt both relieved and angry.
He was glad that Satya was careless and generally didn't pay much attention to these details. Barum had been secretly using his servants to make a lot of extra money during this period.
If Lamar was there, he would have discovered the trick in less than two days.
When the time comes, he will have to go back to the filthy land to herd cattle or fish.
But at the same time, he was very angry. After Lamar came, at least during the time he was in Delhi, he had no chance of making any extra money.
That was an income of thousands of rupees, and it was killed by the "great master".
But after he left, everything would return to normal, and Barum couldn't help but smile.
"Why are you laughing like a donkey?" Lamar yelled at him from the back row.
"I'm sorry, sir." Barum almost fell down to apologize to him.
When they arrived downstairs at Windsor Apartments, Satya was waiting for them.
As soon as Lamar stepped out of the car, he patted his pockets with a confused look on his face and said, "I have lost a rupee."
He snapped his fingers at Barum and said, "Get down and look inside the carriage."
Balum lay down and sniffed among the mats like a dog, trying to find the rupee.
But he searched for a long time and couldn't find it.
"What do you mean? Not here? Do you think you can steal money just because you're in the city? Give me back my one rupee."
"Lamar, forget it, let's go have a glass of Scotch." Satya didn't care.
"Brother, this is how you spoil your servants. One day they steal a needle, the next they steal gold. How can you expect a pariah not to steal?"
Barum really didn't find it, and he didn't know what the one-rupee coin was.
Finally, he took a rupee from his pocket and threw it on the ground, then picked it up and gave it to Ramal.
"I have found it, sir. I'm sorry it took me so long to find it for you."
A childish smile appeared on Lamar's dark face. He weighed the coin in his hand and smacked his lips, as if he had encountered the happiest thing of the day.
"Look, this driver just took out this rupee from his pocket. He stole the money. Brother, you should consider changing the driver. This guy is unreliable."
Barum, who was wiping the car, was struck by lightning. Change... change?
The brothers spoke English, and they had no idea that Barum could understand a few words, such as "change," "driver," and "local."
They were still talking, but Barum didn't hear clearly, and there was no need for him to hear clearly.
He crouched down, looking in the rearview mirror: "I want to confront you, meet your eyes like a man." But he didn't dare look at me in the rearview mirror. He didn't dare face me.
Barum lowered his head, his hands holding the rag trembling as he wiped the betel nut juice off the tire hard, again and again.
He could hear himself gritting his teeth: I always thought I was plotting against him, but it turns out he was plotting against me!
Rich people are always one step ahead of them, right?
But it will definitely not be like that this time. For every step he takes, I will take two steps.
Barum suppressed the anger in his heart and poured the sewage on the side of the road.
Outside, a vendor sat on the side of the road with a pile of motorcycle helmets, still wrapped in plastic, that looked like a pile of severed heads.
The Yadav brothers didn't use the car that day, and Balum wandered aimlessly around Delhi's old market.
This was the market where the servants went. He crossed the street and came to the second cinema where the servants went.
There is a row of smelly restaurants, tea stalls and huge frying pans for frying bread.
Those who work in the cinema and those who clean the cinema come here to eat, and this is also a place where beggars live.
Barum bought a cup of tea and a portion of fried potato balls, sat down under a banyan tree, and began to eat numbly.
"Brother, give me three rupees." An old lady who looked skinny and miserable stretched out her hand in front of him.
"I'm not rich, Auntie. Go ask those people across the street for it."
"brother…"
"Can you please let me eat something? Leave me alone!"
After she left, a knife sharpener came and set up his stall next to the tree.
He held two knives in each hand and sat in front of the machine, which was the kind of whetstone that was turned by foot, and he started it up with his foot.
Sparks began to fly, only about ten centimeters away from him.
"Man, do you have to work here? Can't you see that some people are eating?"
He paused, blinked, and placed the blade back on the whirring grindstone, as if he hadn't heard what Barum said to him.
Barum threw the fried mashed potato balls at his feet: "How can you be so stupid? You deserve to be poor forever!"
The old lady who was begging for money followed him across the street to the movie studio across the street.
She lifted her sari, took a deep breath, and started her old tricks: "Sister, give me three rupees, I haven't eaten for a day..."
Barum's eyes were filled with mockery, but something seemed to be burning inside him.
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
