For non-contraband civilian folk
who didn’t have the pleasure of being born in US of A, laying hands upon guns
is usually the stuff of dreams, rarely ever realised. Since obtaining a license
in India is near-impossible, getting experience with shooting usually requires
engagement with state authorities such as the police/army, and man, which
middle class Indian wants that?!
Thanks to my current job, I am
one of the state authorities. Albeit strictly civilian, I do get chances to interact
with the police. Last week, during a conversation with a senior police officer,
the subject of Indian police’s prowess in shooting came up. Whenever the topic
of shooting is broached, I rarely forget to boast about the .22 rifle
district-level championship I won as a kid. This time, though, neither was the
topic changed nor the eyes rolled. Instead, I was extended an offer to rekindle
my love for shooting at a police firing range.
I was there the very next morning.
The office accompanying me boasted about the array of arsenal being used for
training that day - pistols and revolvers, carbines, AK-47s, Self-Loading Rifle
(SLR), British-era 3NOT3 rifles, and Light Machine Guns (LMGs). I was in
disbelief at the mention of that last weapon - LMGs and pot bellies go together
only in writing.
To prove me wrong, he took me to
the sight where the guns were carefully lined up next to one another. Indeed,
the LMG was there. None of the guns was loaded, but next to each lay its
bullets. The bullets of the British-era 3NOT3 were perhaps longer than even
those of the LMG. Though I’ve fired revolvers previously, they seemed tiny to
me, almost innocuous. The myth was quickly dispelled on being informed that a
single shot could burst open two skulls lined up one behind the other, from a
50 metre range. With the officer’s permission, I picked up each and every gun,
and found out that the LMG is not so L, after all.
From about 100 metres away, the
roar of LMGs and the crackling sounds of other guns rang in my ears. Guns of different
types going off one after the other lent the range the aura of a mini
battlefield. The air was heavy with the smell of gunpowder and hot iron. The
adrenaline was running thick, yes, but I’d be lying if I denied the
unmistakable trepidation within.
I first took a crack at the
now-obsolete 3NOT3. After a brief demo, I loaded a single bullet, locked it by
pushing the lever ahead, placed my slightly shaky left hand firmly under the
barrel, secured the butt of the rifle on my right shoulder, shut the left eye and looked at the target with the right keeping it in
line with the two little pointers on the gun, and placed the index finger of
the right hand lightly on the trigger. Then, I steadied my breath – it’s
necessary to hit the target. I felt a jolt on my right shoulder. Before I could open my left eye, I saw a puff of dust rise up behind the target. The bullet had covered
the more than 200 metre distance before my ear could register the first of the
many deafening shots that would soon numb it. The butterflies had died down. I
smelt gunpowder from so up close after really long. I liked it. After 15
shots with the 3NOT3, I checked the target. For someone shooting after well
over a decade, I’d done reasonably well. My left hand was in considerable pain
and I could hear almost nothing, not even the LMGs in the vicinity. No wonder
the weight of the rifle and the time taken to load each bullet have rendered it
useless, except, of course, for Indian police.
I moved on to the revolver, the
carbine, and soon on to the Kalashnikov. Though I didn’t get a crack at the
LMG, the AK was a different experience altogether. It is extremely lightweight
and maneuverable, almost like a toy, yet gives a feeling far more manly than
the 3NOT3, SLR, carbine, or the revolver. Not for nothing is it the most lethal
weapon on the planet - the weapon of choice for many armies and almost all
terrorists. I shot several rounds in the semi-automatic/repeat fire mode,
wherein each squeeze of the trigger dispatches a solitary messenger of death. Finally,
I shot 5 rounds in the automatic/burst mode, the one used for mass killings.
Firing 5 bullets with a single squeeze was exhilarating and much easier than I’d
imagined, and I wanted to go for a higher number, but was denied permission. I
have no regrets whatsoever. Shooting an AK-47 is perhaps best compared to making
love to a beautiful woman, for the touch, smell and sound of both intoxicate a
man like nothing else can.
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| While shooting the AK - the only photo of me at the range, and the right one. The policeman is trying to prevent the shells from going astray |
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| The insignia of rifle butts on my right shoulder |
While walking off the range, the
AK in my hand, I spotted some animals, mainly cows, far away. They looked tiny.
For a fleeting second I thought – could my Kalashnikov get to them? Given my
love for animals, it was a scary thought. Surely, it wasn’t entirely voluntary.
No wonder little children can be made to kill with this beautiful beast.
I think I have a few trips to the
range lined up.
