A Shot At History: My Obsessive Journey to Olympic Gold

by Abhinav Bindra

Rumour insisted that if a Chinese shooter failed to score a 596 in training he had to miss his next meal. Not here. They tried to relax me, got me to laugh at my mistakes, turned the volume down on seriousness. ‘Too intense, Abhinav,’ was a frequent refrain. In their group, as is the way in Europe and Australia, a convivial atmosphere prevailed. Jokes and teasing, especially of the fresher, are part of sporting routine. But jokes and teasing are not always an Indian staple in the sporting workplace. Me, I had no sense of humour. But eventually, slowly, agonizingly, I learnt to give back. I was shy, too, Eastern boy stuck in a Western world. In Gaby’s house, if you wanted food, you grabbed it from the fridge. You washed your glass. You made yourself at home. This was foreign to me, as if it was almost rude to rummage through someone’s kitchen even though I lived with them. For Gaby it was painful. Always they had to ask: don’t you want to eat something? Only then I did.