From the Hunting Grounds to the Shooting Range:
How my father’s lessons turned a frightened boy into a National Shooter.
John Aguiar
When I was young, I longed to learn shooting. My inspiration was my father, Diogo Aguiar, a renowned hunter who often travelled to Mollem and Talsai in pursuit of rabbits and porcupines, spending long nights in the jungle.
I was sometimes frightened by the darkness and unfamiliar sounds. My father would occasionally leave me behind while he pursued prey. Though frightening at the time, those experiences gradually transformed me from a timid boy into a brave and confident young man.
My father owned a 12-bore double-barrel gun, and I was fascinated by it. One day, I asked him to teach me how to use it.
He nodded, but said, “Let me test you first.”
At Dhavali, he prepared a target from the back of a calendar and took me to a suitable distance. He began explaining firearm safety and the importance of the front and rear sights. But having watched him handle the gun many times, I pushed the safety of the loaded weapon to active mode and pulled the trigger before he could finish.
“Dham!”
The shot echoed through the jungle. My father slapped my back.
“Idiot!” he exclaimed. “You should have waited for my instructions. You fired into the air!”
I insisted that I had aimed at the target. He caught me by the ear and led me towards it. When we examined it, we found that the pellets had spread around the target in an almost perfect circle.
My father said nothing, but I knew he was pleased. Perhaps he realised that his son had grown up.
That incident began my journey with shooting. My father later arranged for his licence to be retained in my name, allowing me to lawfully possess and carry the firearm. I continued hunting and became familiar with the jungle’s excitement and dangers.
My father had shot several animals, including leopards, wild boars, bison, deer and others. Once, he shot a deer with magnificent antlers. Although injured, the deer charged towards him, and the two became locked in a fight for survival. After some time, my father overpowered the animal and killed it with his dagger. The deer’s head later decorated the sitting room of our ancestral house in Ponda.
I hunted rabbits, civet cats, wild boar, deer and other animals. But one incident changed me forever.
During an expedition, I shot a porcupine. As it lay wounded, it cried in a voice that sounded almost like a child’s.
That sound stayed with me. Something changed inside me, and I gradually gave up hunting.
Later, after joining Government service, I consciously distanced myself from it. Over time, my attitude towards animals and life changed further. Today, I do not kill even an insect; even when one bites me, I try to let it live.
Yet my father’s lessons remained with me. The discipline, concentration and steadiness I developed through shooting proved valuable in another arena:
The shooting range.
As an NCC cadet in Madhya Pradesh, I became the Best Shooter in NCC. That experience and confidence eventually led me to compete at a higher level.
I represented Goa at the National Maulankar Shooting Championship, earning the distinction of becoming a National Shooter.
Looking back, I see how unexpectedly life can transform our experiences. What began with a boy watching his father hunt eventually led me to the national shooting arena.
My father taught me how to handle a gun.
Life taught me something more important—when not to use it.
The frightened boy who entered the jungle became a shooter who represented Goa nationally. The hunter’s son who once pursued animals became someone who believes every living creature deserves to live.
That, perhaps, is the most meaningful shot I have ever taken—not with a gun, but at my own transformation.
