The Gun Shot

By: Ashwini Surpur

Since my childhood, one thing that raised every hair and nerve into wonder is the idea of self-defense and the willingness to sacrifice one’s life in defense of one’s own people (country, community, society, you call it by any name).  I have read and watched the stories of brave soldiers who have received the award — Param Vir Chakra (the highest gallantry award in India), with so much awe that I envied these martyrs and wished that I could be one. If there is any dream for the next life or even the next thousand lives, it is about this sacrifice and the act of bravery where I lay in my own hot blood with a smile on my face as I take my last breath. This dream has never left me, even though I have been into yoga for over two decades. 

Just to talk about my personality, I have practiced Ahimsa at every level. A little extra use of any resource of this planet brings me the memory of those who may be deprived of it, and then I correct myself. I cannot bear to watch animal channels where they show the plight of animals due to human exploitation of resources. I hesitated to own a pet because I could not watch the mute animals who could not speak when they were suffering or when I forgot to give them their meal on time. With all this sensitivity, the thought of bearing arms for my fellow folks does not stop giving me hair-rising inspiration. I wanted to join NCC (National Cadet Corps) in India when I was in high school. But it was not offered to girls until I graduated. My friend (Clara, who was like my younger sister) was then in high school, and she started narrating how she learned shooting and other military training that they gave in NCC for girls. I felt sad that I was deprived of that opportunity. My favorite genre of music still is Desh Bhakti (patriotic) songs. 

Then years rolled on, and life took me on a different journey. I have been a community activist in many ways, and I have expressed my fight-for-justice spirit in various ways, including the pen (which is mightier than the sword). So no regrets there. In recent years, I found that my son had been into the hobby of going to the shooting range. About 3-4 years ago, one day, he walked up to me and talked about how we felt about him owning a gun. He also talked about his hobby of going to the shooting range. His eyes lit up throughout the entire conversation as he explained how he managed to keep the gun safe, how he uses it, and how he feels about wanting to protect his people in the event of a calamity. It was like my own teen years returning to me.

Now, he is 25 years old and is an expert at shooting ranges. I had been wanting to go with him to the range for quite a while, but life and its buzzing activities interrupted as usual. He had taken my husband several times to the range, but I did not want to interrupt the bonding that the two men were having. Finally, I asked him to take me as well. Just two days after my birthday, we decided to go to the nearby shooting range recently as a way of celebrating my birthday. He told me that I would be mortally scared on the first visit and should be prepared for it. He gave the entire training on how to safely operate the gun and made me practice it several times. His own meticulous handling of the gun and his expert advice about the safety of storing the firearms assured me of the required maturity he possessed for this kind of sport. 

So we went. He asked us all to meditate and have a calm disposition as we drove. He himself practices Yoga (Surya Namaskar and other poses) before he goes to the shooting range. We both followed his instructions and braced ourselves. As I entered the arena with my gear (ear cover and eye cover), I heard those loud shots by others. So far, it did not scare me. I was pretty prepared, I thought. I even told him, “Look, it is not scary.” He said to wait until I took that shot. 

As I prepared my ammo and took that first shot, it was as if the bullet pierced my own heart and then reached the target. I felt like the bullet was cutting through my heart. Was it the recoil? Was it my psyche? I had no idea. I also did not know where the bullet hit. Since there were already holes, I did not know if my shot even hit the paper target at all. But the most fascinating part was that I did not feel scared, nor was I thrilled.  It was a moment where only the moment remained. It was as if I got a mortal blow to my heart, and yet it felt nothing. It felt timeless at that one point in time, and that timelessness seemed eternal. The yogic idea of Bindu (Bindu-nada-Kala) was coming alive.  It was like entering a black hole. 

In Yoga, we do Shavasana, where we play dead! We let go so deeply that I have an experience of falling into the bottomless pit, and sometimes, so deep that I feel an immense fear of losing myself in that state. This gunshot and subsequent shots that I took transported me to this state, only way too fast, way too deep, but without the fear of losing myself though. I wondered why.

After having completed the bullets, we returned home. I was contemplating the next few days. I found myself thinking. Life hangs at gunpoint for all of us, metaphorically speaking. One accident, one huge natural calamity, or one virus or bacteria is what it takes to erase us. Our forefathers lived amidst constant danger to their lives. Life was not taken for granted when a caveman was hunting, like any other animal, for his and his family’s survival. Hunger and diseases were rampant. Death was part and parcel of every life at every age. Yet they were resilient. While mortal fear is part and parcel of our very being, relatively speaking, one becomes more prepared for risks in life. We have constructed many layers of protection and are relatively safer. But we also are much more fragile in our mental disposition. The fear we carry is immense. Life is totally taken for granted. This only moves us away from spiritual growth. If life is simply about extending our years on this planet, then it makes sense. But humans have such evolved faculty of thinking and contemplating that we are not satisfied being amortal and ageless. We want fulfillment, expression of our innate strengths, and exploration of life’s boundaries and beyond. That is spirituality, after all. 

With all the yoga I practiced, I was feeling that I had not stretched my boundaries. I have been too cozy and may even have a subtle ego of a fake sense of spiritual achievement.  The gunshot I took told me that there is more to life. I know one life is not enough to reach the unlimited scope of life. But now I think that one life is enough to touch different spheres of life, to expand our horizon, and cross our cozy cocoon. Most importantly, this gunshot helped me appreciate the beauty in mortality, which we prefer to fear than to see its beauty. 

As a person working for non-profits, my favorite prayer is, “Kayo me patatu Prabho” — May this body fall in the service of you, O Lord. But unless I conquer every fear, and especially the mortal fear, I cannot make this prayer real. One cannot become selfless unless one is completely fearless. With half of my life, especially the productive part of life, being over and my age progressing, I have often wondered whether, when my body is about to fall, I am going to be still in the service of the Lord. Or would I fear leaving this body? I want to live my prayer until my last breath. I want to have that smile while I take that last breath as if offering my body as a flower at the Lord’s feet for peace on the planet. Life is a battle, after all, and we all lay our lives after all. But I want life to be intentional living and death, an intentional letting go. Hope the gunshot that I took teaches me to do that.

Ashwini Surpur is the Executive Director and a senior yoga therapist at Yoga Bharati.