Baptism of blood.

My grand father was a famous hunter at his time and a special game shot who was  well known for his art of hunting and big moustache. A few years before we could heard of his kudos.He was a successful member of British Pioneer Riffle Association. An African ivory studded famous 303 riffle, a Lion & Lion branded beautiful double barreled gun and an American short gun were under his pride possession. They were always shining as their esteemed owner as well as their famous western manufacturers.

He had a good knack of hunting. In our childhood we used to see many crafted stag head with real horns and stuffed big cats skins. A big buffalo head was fastened on a pillar behind his huge chair. He was indeed a very tall person having a height of six feet six inches. He was also a very rich person too. His personality was  so strong that anyone could misunderstood him and dare to talk with him. In fact he he was a very friendly and pleasant person .He had a close close proximity in his talks and nature and very good  story teller, especially his own hunting stories to those person who actually knew him while he was smoking with his esteemed rosewood and royal  amber pipe. He could not stood still in the evenings those days, an uncanny  irresistible attraction of hunting pulled him to carry the gun and went for another game in the nearby bushes. The common victims of his game were the wild boars. The wild boars were very common at that time in our locality.

I could still remember those mutilated death animals covered in a pool of blood, their helpless ever opened eyes  even haunts me today. I could not forget those fearsome evenings when his close followers and companions used to carry the carcass  with the help of  a piece of bamboo and string. I could not resist or   raised a of voice against it because of fear and he continued the killings of a thousand of innocent animals happily.

But I  still remember the day of the days, as he went for a hunting and killed a big boar, a mother, a newly mother boar and astonished to noticed the four orphan cubs were feeding on their death mother`s  breasts. Before the cubs could understood ,my grandpa broke in tears and began to cry like a child.

This incident (accident) weaned his hunting for ever and never touched his guns  before the last breath he took.