Marksmen, marked men

First, the basic question: do the policy makers really consider shooting as a sport? Not quite, it appears. The blanket cover of procedure, scrutiny and restrictions 8212; as this paper highlighted earlier this week 8212; hides an atmosphere of paranoia and blurs the distinct demarcation between 8220;good8221; shooting and 8220;bad8221;.

For once the collective lament of the shooters in the country 8212; unlike other non-cricketing sportspersons 8212; is not about money. They are simply asking for restrictions to be eased, procedures to be simplified, sportsmen to be treated more like sportsmen and less like arms dealers. Olympic finalist Suma Shirur wants a situation where she no longer has to spend her visits to New Delhi running from one window to another 8212; 11 in all 8212; or complete some other bureaucratic hassle.

Take the humble air rifle, ubiquitous at all shooting events and the weapon that any shooter, serious or not, starts with. Technically it is nothing but a modified and more precise version of the weapon that we8217;ve all used as children to shoot balloons on the beach. You can, at most, use it to win a teddy bear or burst the bloated ego of a pompous friend; the air rifle isn8217;t capable of greater results. Yet it falls within the purview of the Arms Act and so can be imported only after one has gone through the dizzying routine of shooting federation, Sports Ministry, SAI, DGFT, local police thana several times over, in some cases.

All of which makes cricket seem the obvious, hassle-free choice of sport for any child: pick up a bat for Rs 50, get a tennis ball, gather the friends in the neighbourhood park and game on. The odds against Major Rathore8217;s feat being replicated are lengthened not merely by the growing excellence of the competition but by the stifling, stunting red tape of our own system.

The government8217;s rationale for tight control is the danger of these 8220;arms8221; falling into the wrong hands. The lines from Satya aren8217;t as far off the mark as they seem; why, for example, will a rogue shooter with ulterior motives spend hours at the range to be a Renowned Shooter and so qualify for duty waivers? Has anyone come across a case of murder, bank robbery, assassination, where a sports weapon has been used?

These fears seem absurd, too far-fetched to base government policy. But consider the case of Andhra Pradesh. After the Afro-Asian Games last year, interest in shooting soared and the infrastructure was in place in Hyderabad. Local boy Gagan Narang made it to the Olympics and missed the final by a hair8217;s breadth. That created greater awareness, more interest. However, you can forget about a boom in the sport in those parts; the Naxalite problem in the region means no licence for the clubs to buy weapons 8212; not even guns to shoot balloons. So the beginner can8217;t even start from scratch.

On a broader level, the government8217;s easing of restrictions 8212; relatively speaking 8212; have paid rich dividends. There was a time not so long ago when just the top eight shooters were allowed to import a weapon; the number has now gone up, in stages, to 25. The fallout was evident at Athens, and in the couple of years preceding that, when Indians picked up medals and broke records and there was no commensurate spurt in unrelated violence!. If the controls are eased further, who knows just how profitable the fallout can be?

It should be a great time to be a shooter: the first individual Olympics silver, three finalists, one missing it narrowly. But the government needs to take another look through its viewfinder to spot the marksman from the marked man.