THE NINCOMPOOP SHOOTER(Tania Chakraborty) A happy and joyful atmosphere enlightened the office. Everyone in the office was eager to meet the foreign representative, Mr. Stanley Hill. The most eager of us all was our boss and the company owner, Mr. Nani Lal. Nani Lal knew that English representative; Mr. Stanley Hill played a very pivotal role in his business career. His ‘Mohana Project’ madly needed Stanley’s approval. Nani Lal was an ambitious man. He was a stout, fat and possessed a thin moustache but his dreams were tall and colossal in size. Nani Lal liked flattery and thus the office was packed with many sycophants. One day he called me in his cabin and said to me, “listen Astha Ram, this project is my dream and because I trust you I give you the job of taking good care of Mr. Stanley Hill.”
Mr. Stanley Hill was a nifty human being. His tall figure, beaten body and brown hair matched his physique. Though quite opposite to each other, Nani Lal and Mr. Stanley Hill had one thing in common, both liked flattery and sycophancy. Mr. Stanley Hill arrived in India on the very next day. Discussions and meetings on the Mohana project started off with a bang. Stanley was highly impressed by the project. His approval was nearly approaching. One day, I went to Nani Lal’s cabin and gave him my masterpiece idea, “sir, why don’t you invite Mr. Hill at your residence for dinner. It will be of great help in the approval of the project.” Nani Lal retorted back, “a brilliant idea, Astha Ram, this is the reason why I have appointed you as my advisor. “Nani Lal’s invitation was gladly accepted by Mr. Hill. Nani Lal’s wife Sudha was from my village and thus knew me very nicely. She rang me up and invited me for the dinner. I reached Nani Lal’s house at eight o’ clock in the evening. Mr. Hill hadn’t arrived then. At eight thirty, Mr. Hill arrived. We all started to converse within ourselves. One thing which came out off the conversation was the fact that both had had a passion for hunting. Mr. Hill said to us, “...My friends call me a professional hunter. They think me of possessing the best hunting skill. I know the technique.” Nani Lal interrupted in, “well said sir, I think technique and perfection are needed for a good hunter to transform into the best. My friends have epithet me Jim Corbett. They are of the opinion that nobody could excel my skill. They say that I am the number one hunter of this world.” Mr. Stanley Hill’s ego was deeply hurt. Something within me announced that this problem will run a bit long. Mr. Hill declared out, “well, then Nani Lal let’s go for a hunting party, tomorrow.” I interrupted, “Pardon me, but hunting is banned in India. It is illegal and can amount to punishment” Nani Lal poked in, “Astha Ram, please keep quite. Okay then Mr. Stanley its decided tomorrow we shall go for hunting to the forest close to my farmhouse. I will make all the arrangements.” That night, I wasn’t at all in peace, my heart mourned thinking about the birds who will be killed for simple human pleasure. The fateful day arrived. Mr. Stanley Hill, Nani Lal and myself ventured into the small jungle. It is said that if you are sad then the whole world around you looks sad and gloomy. My soul’s sadness matched to the gloominess of the outer world. I desperately wanted that all the birds and animals smelling the danger, veil themselves. Suddenly Stanley’s eyes fell upon a beautiful bird. I closed my eyes and heard the sound. I opened my eyes and found the bird neither on the tree nor on the ground. Hill had missed his shot. Nani Lal laughed like a jealous competitor. Nani Lal said, “No, No, Mr. Hill. The real skill is in the fundamentals. Whenever you are out to a hunting party remember to make angular adjustments. Those are very important. Remember the first step is angular adjustments, followed by target setting and then firm grip and boom.” One hour had passed by, no beast; no fauna could capture the eyesight of the hunters. It was turning hot as if furious earth was throwing hot balls of fire at her intruders. Nani Lal pointed his finger towards a tree branch. The beautiful pheasant couldn’t hide itself from the cruel eyes of Nani Lal. A smile appeared on Nani Lal’s lips and he moved a bit as if creating angles. Hill and I watched the moves. Nani Lal flapped his hands towards us indicating to move towards the right. I felt sorry for the little bird. This time may be it won’t be able to save its life. This type of situation arose when I saw the last cricket match. Last ball and the Indians needed a four, I closed my eyes and when I opened my eyes, we were the victors. I closed my eyes this time too. I heard the bullet strike. I opened my eyes to find Nani Lal jumping on the green grass and shouting, “I killed…..oh! My god I killed.” One look for the bird but it was not there. One look at the other side, Mr. Stanley Hill lying on the ground with blood oozing out from his right leg and a painful voice yelling out, “I am dead…I am dead.” The sounds of both the individuals merging into one, “I have killed him.” And “I am dead.” Finally I was able to make them understand that neither Mr. Stanley Hill is dead nor Nani Lal had killed anybody. Mr. Stanley Hill was admitted at a local hospital where he was saved from getting his right foot amputated. A few days later Nani Lal accompanied me to the hospital Nani Lal had pressed the trigger after making initial adjustments but the bullet instead of hitting the bird, hit upon an oak tree and got rebounded and injured Mr. Stanley Hill’s right leg. Stanley had not only rejected the Mohana project but had also sued Nani Lal.
The nature had given its judgment. Those who will try to harm her children will be punished. That is the reason probably that I wasn’t hurt. Stanley left the country but not without suing Nani Lal. On the other hand, Nani Lal is now nicknamed as “THE NINCOMPOOP SHOOTER”

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