A sporting event that Munnar’s former British tea planters looked forward to eagerly in the 1950s and 60s was the annual Thorpe Cup Shooting Competition. It gave them a chance to flaunt their shooting skills on a lush golf course.
With typical thoroughness the Brits enforced elaborate safety precautions. All contestants were required to lay their firearms on the ground with the breech open. Ammunition was provided; no one was allowed to use their own. Only officials were permitted on the golf course where the targets were set up; and spectators could watch the event only from the lawn of the clubhouse.
There were events for shotgun (trap-shooting), rifle (stationary and moving targets) as well as revolver and pistol. Interestingly, women too vied for honours with the men. Records indicate that some shooters were remarkable marksmen, winning the coveted Thorpe Cup for as many as three years in a row—a distinction that permitted them to retain the rolling trophy. In return, they donated a new one.
Over the years I witnessed some of these keenly-fought contests which threw up interesting sidelights now and then. Once a lanky veteran cut a rather comical figure as he repeatedly rehearsed his shooting posture for the trap event—much to the unrestrained amusement of a few urchins who were promptly packed off to allow the miffed shooter to regain his composure and dignity. Another year a mischievous schoolboy set off a loud firecracker and momentarily sent the harassed officials into a tizzy, wondering whether a gun had gone off accidentally.
Some planters, woefully short of practice in trap-shooting, were not averse to potting at flying crows before the start of the contest, often earning the derision of their rivals. And, needless to say, the day-long gunfire left the wildlife-rich environs of the venue bereft of their denizens for several days!
When the guns fell silent in the evening, the ground would be littered with fragmented clay-pigeons and the shredded dummies of stags while kids scrambled around to collect spent cartridge casings as souvenirs and the men gravitated to the bar. Inevitably, the exit of the Brits and the spiralling costs of arms and ammunition shot down this popular contest in the early 1970s. True, their Indian successors did make valiant attempts to revive it but, due to waning interest, these were at best only a watered-down version of the original pulsating shootouts.
George Netto
Email: gnettomunnar@rediffmail.com