Son of a Gun

My cousins (distant in relation but very close in attachment) recently gifted me a gun, to be precise, a rifle - a .30 - 06" Bolt action rifle with a 50x zoom telescope. My parents were present (unfortunately) at the ceremony and were not very happy about it but did not object at that time. Later while driving back, I had to listen to my father's eloquent speech on how Hollywood and U.S purposefully spread their propaganda in the Third World Countries to initiate a 'gun culture' as a developing potential armed opposition to democracy and society. But, don't worry, over the last few years I have learned to drive through any road in this planet while listening to complex topics like this.

At home I tried to assemble the rifle from a million parts and to my parents happiness I found out that there is a small dent near the bolt handle which makes the gun pretty unusable. So I decided to take my mother's advice to keep the gun polished and nailed on some wall in the house. After an intricate dinner table conference, we decided to nail it in our drawing room. Dad opposed the idea in an outrageous manner because he was beginning to get pissed off with the whole deal. And the nailing of the gun on the wall of the visiting room was apparently against the humanist values he possess in his life as well as the Party. He even accused me and my mom of  holding on to the old, forgotten feudal mindset. It was followed by an argument and later resulted into a speech on the topic 'guns - vicious symbol of Feudalism'. Since it was getting a little hot, I stopped the argument by saying that I will nail it on a wall in my room which is generally not open to Capitalists (read Congress) and Ultra-Capitalists (read Communists).

An old friend of mine came and drilled in two nails on my wall. Later, the gun was ceremoniously kept on the nails and a photo was taken. The problem got solved. I started feeling like a war lord with a noble looking gun on my wall and a packet of 50 bullets in my cupboard. Whoa!

Two days passed. My cousins gave me a call and asked me how the gun was working. I said I didn't get a chance to make it work and I admitted that it is unusable because of a possible dent in the bolt chamber which might (just kidding) result in the user blowing his/her own head off. They insisted on repairing it immediately as they know an ex-army guy who can fix it. I was talking to Swati and she also asked me about the point of having a gun which cannot fire. So, I decided to go. To be precise, I fell in the trap. Next day morning, I found myself in my car, driving through the Highway with a rifle resting 'peacefully' in the back seat. Then I took a country road as that saves me some time and distance in getting to my destination. There I was abducted by cousins and was taken to this so called expert in guns. He ruthlessly unscrewed the gun and pulled out the barrel and using an iron pin tapped the dent from inside and miraculously straightened it. Then. there was the showtime. We were supposed to test fire it. There was a small group of men and women present, small naked kids, some with running noses and some looking at us as if we have come to invade their village with A gun (which might probably backfire). My cousin, Ajith, handed the gun to me and I handed it over to Mahesh, his brother. In fact, we weren't ready for a public test. I wasn't ready to blowing my head off in an unknown public. Suddenly, the unthinkable happened. We realized that we did not carry any bullets. My bullets were in the car which was in their house. They have come with no bullets and that repairer guy, the John Wayne of that village, also did not have bullets for this gun. We were saved from possible humiliation. The crowd was disappointed. (Seriously! Since when did I start thinking about satisfying a crowd? Who do they think I am? Bronco Billy??) We took off in the boat and reached home. Then they presented their plan to me - 'Let's go for Hunting'.

I was shocked. They have told me this thing the other day, but I didn't take it very seriously. They had told me about hunting storks as they are the only available species good for hunting in that part of Kerala. And, it's different from hunting Tigers (Apparently, there are only some 1411 of them left in India. Sadly not enough for the 3,000,00 of VIP's from various communities, mainly Politics and Cinema). See, you can't eat a tiger after you killed it. But, you can eat a stork. So, it is hunting for food. No scripture has forbidden it. Starting from Abraham's clan to the recent Omaticaya, hunting has been a spiritual job. Even for the great Maharajas of India, it was so spiritual that some of them kept the body parts of the animals they hunted in jars full of spirit! The only thing I thought I would miss about this hunting is the photo art after it. See, it it was a tiger, we could have posed behind its dead body. But, with a stork, it won't look that regal. Would it?

Anyways, as soon as the plan was proposed I started saying NO and they were pissed. (Nobody, in their right mind would want to piss my cousins off. They are so deadly that their father had the solution of parachute dropping them in Pak Occupied Kashmir as India's response to terrorism from Pakistan's side.) I was in dilemma. I promised my parents that I won't fire it unless my life was in threat (which was close to impossible in that locale) and there, my cousins were forcing me to commit crimes against nature. :). My father's humanist ideals started appearing in front of me as opposed to my mother's feudal background (in my dad's opinion). Finally, I gave up. I promised them that I would teach them how to use one and then they can go and kill whatever they want.

The shooting lesson started in an uninhabited area of their wide property. Targets were set up on coconut trees but seemed a lot to me because there were a lot of coconut trees. The disciples were positioned. I showed them the easy to understand 'load-lock-aim-fire' theory and basics of where to keep the butt (of the gun) and how to hold the forestock. The rest was their job. I tried to play Dronacharya by asking the question 'What do you see?" and they replied "Your fuckin' dick" (The real meaning was lost in translation). I did not spend much time there after that. Neither have I heard from them (or Uncle) since then. I hope they haven't gone on a killing spree. I feel weird for waking up two monsters and introducing them into the world of firearms. I got my Rifle back and I have it on my wall; safe and royal-looking!

What are they gonna bring upon me next time?
No! Not an RPG.