Rekindling My Love for Shooting

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.

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

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.