A SHOT AT HISTORY (English)
Introduction
A Shot At History is the autobiography of Abhinav Bindra, India's only individual Olympic gold medalist. The book is about the athlete's personal experiences and the challenges he faced on his journey to becoming a world-class shooter. Abhinav Bindra, the recipient of Arjuna Award and Padma Bhushan, begins his story with his early days, when he started shooting with toy guns and quickly became attached to them. He writes about the support of his parents and coaches that helped him to have concurrently held the world and Olympic titles.
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Defeat and Despair in Athens
Story:
I've stopped dreaming of the Olympics in Athens. I have faced numerous defeats in my career as a shooter, but that one caused me to start going to therapy in Germany.The walls of my shooting range in Chandigarh are filled with certificates, badges, photographs and scoresheets. All these are framed under glass except my Olympic certificate from Athens. It states that I stood seventh in the 10-meter air rifle event. I don't look at it, but sometimes it reminds me of my failure. I once picked it up and hurled it to the ground.But this defeat also gave my life a purpose. I used to be a talented boy with a gun who could hit a 0.5mm bullseye from 10m. I had come to Athens to become the first Indian to win an individual Olympic gold medal.
I had done exceptionally well in practice. In the eight-man final, 47 players had competed, and I stood third. But then, I came seventh out of eight shooters in the final and had lost.Usually, the final scoring goes into decimal places to decide the winner. When it comes to a bullseye, you can score 10.0 to a highest score of 10.9. One has to be on the edge of perfection to win.In an international air weapons competition in Germany, I had shot every shot above 10. But looking at my scores at the Olympics, they were all below 10.I started questioning if I was overestimating myself.That night in the Olympic Village, I couldn't sleep and kept thinking about what went wrong. Being a shooter, my only chance is to prove myself every four years at the Olympics. My only option is seventy shots in 125 minutes.After my defeat in Athens, in 2004, I had casually mentioned that the Olympics is just another competition. But the truth is, I was trying to distract myself and lessen the pressure. The truth is, the Olympics is the only goal, the sole mission.
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The Parent Factor
Story:
On days when my stability wasn't perfect because of an unusual stance and unrelaxed body, I'd keep practicing. I'd pick up my gun ten times to keep shooting and wouldn’t quit. I thank my parents for helping me develop this perseverance.Dreams require teamwork. And my goals were achievable because of my parents and a few experts who made me strive for excellence in the sport.Growing up, I have seen the negativity of people seeing me as not tough enough and lacking discipline. It took the collective effort of my family and my coaches to make me reach my eventual position.My confidence came from my parents. After losing at the Athens Olympics, my mother Babli came to me and told me that the second best I could do was winning a silver, but that was not my goal. She told me my only goal is to win a gold, and that is what I should strive for. My mother never quit on me and gave me reassurance and faith.
During my early days in Germany, she used to help me get ready for the range in the cold and wait for me to come home. I will never forget her sacrifices.My maternal grandfather was a descendant of general Hari Singh Nalwa, the commander-in-chief of Maharaja Ranjit Singh's army. He had once fought a lion with only a shield and a sword. My mother has a Master's degree in psychology and was also an athlete. She used to play softball, table tennis, hockey, basketball and was also a player in Punjab University's first women's cricket team. My German coach, Heinz Reinkemeier, says she's a tough mama.My mother let me pursue sports instead of a law degree. She had lost her mother at the age of thirteen. She wanted to become a doctor, but in those conservative times, her father asked her to get married instead.My mother did not want me to give up on my dreams like she had given up on hers.
She gives me emotional support, and my father, Apjit, gives me spirit. He'd be busy with his business deals but never miss my shooting. While I was travelling the world to pursue my dream, he'd speak to the coaches and buy the necessary equipment. He even got his secretary to send journalists my results and fax them the news and results from my games.My father, a Sikh, was born in Lucknow. My paternal grandfather, Bir Singh, was an army officer.My father received a scholarship to Denmark, where he did his doctorate in animal sciences and practiced as a veterinarian.In 1971, the then Prime Minister, Indra Gandhi, visited Denmark and convinced my father that India needed people like him.
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The Smell of Gun Oil
Story:
Growing up, I was an overweight kid who didn't like to read or do any physical activity. I used to bunk off my physical training classes. I went to Doon School for a few years, but it didn't fit my personality. I played golf with my father and played around with a football, but I gave up eventually. I lacked talent.When I was at Doon boarding school, my father used to write me a letter every day. All his letters had one thing in common. He used to persuade me to try out for sports. My father believed sports give a person the highest glory. Then, I discovered guns and was attracted to them. My father had a W.W. Greener shotgun, a .22 Czech Bruno Rifle, and a Webley and Scott revolver. I used to sit and watch him dismantling his guns and sliding in clean rods into the barrel coated with oil. I once went with my father to a local gun shop in Dehradun to get his weapon repaired and was fascinated with the rifles I saw there.
I was about the age of 10 when my father let me shoot for the first time. He held the shotgun and allowed me to pull the trigger. He noticed my fascination with guns and gifted me air guns on my birthdays.I spent entire afternoons loading, aiming, firing, and reloading guns.I was an irresponsible kid who asked my maid and her daughter, Tulsi, to rest balloons on their head while I could shoot them. I was foolish, but also had a good aim. When my mother found out, human targets were banned, but shooting was not discouraged. Next, I started shooting bottles. I began with beer bottles, and my father used to collect these from a friend who was a doctor.My father's friend suggested my father send me to professional training. Lieutenant Colonel Jagir Singh Dhillon became my coach. I was thirteen when I wrote a letter to him to persuade him to coach me. He agreed.
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Nirvana in the Shade
Story:
I had two mentors: Colonel Dhillon and Amit Bhattacharjee. They would correct my aim and check my mathematical accuracy. Amit eventually became an elder brother figure for me. Whenever I felt hopeless, I would go to Amit, and he would offer positivity.Amit was then a part-time teacher who was preparing for civil-service examinations. My mother was an organized woman who had planned out my whole day to the minute. But Amit won my friendship and allowed me to sometimes do things at my leisure.Once when my parents were away, he let me drive his Maruti 800. We convinced the guards at the gate that we had to buy books, and finally, I was behind the steering wheel, driving the car. Amit also used to speak to my teachers at school and have them postpone my exams. My principal, Harold Carver, offered support. However, my vice-principal believed that Indians in the sporting arena were just a waste of time. Amit used to help me with my homework.
As time went on, Amit was learning guns and sport. He watched various coaches and learnt their training methods to help me. But Amit did not let me indulge in every silliness. When I picked up a cigarette once, he was horrified.Amit, my patents, my sister, and friends worked together to make me reach where I am today.In 1996, when I was just thirteen, the Olympics seemed to be out of reach. Just wearing an Indian blazer seemed like an achievement.In February 1996, I won the Ropar District Event.I wasn't by any stretch a natural shooter. What I had were fine motor control and concentration.My life now began revolving around scoring a 10. Scoring a nine made me furious: I would scream and throw the equipment. I didn't like imperfection.