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Yesterday at the Rankala Lake, I saw a young boy—maybe twelve—practicing his aim with a borrowed air pistol at the reeds. His father stood behind him, not saying a word, just holding a tiffin of pohe. That boy will need a dozen permissions, forms, and gun licenses before he can even hope to touch a national camp. And we wonder why our shooters lose their spark in the gap between the village ground and the committee room. Achha, we ask for shanti, but the true shanti comes when the paperwork doesn't kill the dream before the trigger is pulled.
#pistol