The most powerful feeling that I have ever experienced is while holding a gun. Indeed even more, when someone stands on the other end. It is an indescribable feeling filled with authority, superiority and mercifulness (entirely on your terms).
The cold feel of curling your lips around the muzzle and rolling the chamber with your fingertips, that's no less than heaven on earth.
The sound that generates when the parts cling together, that's music to ears. Sitting relaxed back on a couch and gripping the gun firmly with two hands, when you pull up to aim, you can almost hear your heartbeat and feel your pulse. In that little minute, from aiming to pulling the trigger your hand almost sticks to your chin, the left eye refuses to open back, the forehead fills with sweat and the mind suddenly recalls the importance of breathing again for survival.
Thereafter, it's that BANG that matters, the echo that batters in the room and is distinctly heard until it completely fades off after creating a thousand ripples in plain air. The little smoke that exits out of the barrel from both ends, and the stench of gunpowder that lingers back in the air is more captivating and magnetic than any other odour or temptation.
The little vibrations that are left oscillating from the wrist to the elbow and back to the wrist along with the imprints of the butt left on the insides of the hand and the redness marked with the trigger on the index finger is what you never desire to lose. The puff of breath that is exhaled marks the completion of the task and explains the fact that a life taken is another life saved. Even as the target falls down there is so much to gain with one single shot, with one single pull or in one small tick.
What follows after 30 seconds is complete silence, a silence that has the potential to directly pierce through you and enter your veins and change your state of mind. Sometimes fear creeps in and sometimes pride. Where a sense of pride would make the shot even worthwhile, fear on the other hand would ruin all the feelings that one had just felt and lived.
Even before the happening happens there are elements that pull one back, thus there should be a driving force pushing you towards glory from the back of the mind and a pull from the heart should grip all muscles together while the fingertip kisses the trigger and pulls it back, a sense of doing should persist in the calm mind as the aim stands opposite the muzzle. Mercy, fear and pity should be locked off while determination, existence and adventure should hold the reins.
It is true that existence is yet another word for survival, and survival means elimination. Sometimes it is for good, and sometimes for a desire to be good, but never for bad. The moment you consider it mean and deceitful you lose. Thus feeling is so harmful that it won't let you last even a moment more on the battlefield. The mere thought makes one weak and allows the rival to take his shot. Thus, humanity should be turned off and only the motive should linger in the mind. The shot that can give you life can take it away too, just in a blink of a second. Do or die is the theme of the battlefield, no matter where it is, inside a close room or on a busy street. Pull the trigger and live your life, think a moment more and soon you'll be on the ground.
"Kill him! NOW!"
My brother shouted from the window. His words reverberated in the room. The dacoit stood tall before my eyes, loading a yellow metallic bullet in his rifle. Death was just seconds away, in the form of a seven feet black dressed and turbaned villain. I had to reach a decision, time trailed. I had to choose between death and survival.
I closed my eyes for a brief second. And made my choice.
BANG!
It echoed and smoked and stenched just like baba had taught me. There was silence all around and it entered me piercing through open skin. The man dropped. I lived.
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