Prolog:
In 1980, my parents bought me an airgun from a Customs auction at their warehouse on N.M. Joshi Marg, Mumbai. Think the price was INR 1000 then and the model was .22 Chinese B2 (Industry) manufactutured by Shanghai Air Gun Factory. The original can be viewed at this link: http://airrifle-china.com/newEbiz1/Ebiz ... rent=false
Nothing spectacular in performance and looks. But then it was 1980 and I was a lad and a dent in Dalda can with a "clink" made me happy. I did not know much about the air guns then; nor did my parents; nor did any of our friends or relatives. My uncle who was a police inspector then had long given up on "rifles" as they were used by 'havaldars'. So it was mine by default and not by choice or good research. As is the case with any first love, I simply and purely loved her. Years later, even today, the love simply refuses to wane. My Mom taught me to shoot, nothing scientific; nothing theoretical, nothing modular - simply personal. She stood with me when I shot at a "target" taped on a wall with "Wah" or "Shabbaas" or "Chhaan" or "A bit to the right" or a "A bit to the left" etc. etc. The "target" was a notebook paper with a circle drawn with a sketch-pen using a Laxmidevi Hing plastic box cover. The notebooks were the "leftover blanks papers" from previous years salvaged. I must have used the gun thus for about 2 years - mostly in vacations. Then one of my "mamas" took it to the "gaon". Subsequently, it simply kept passing hands - sometimes "it was with him" or sometimes "he borrowed it" - somehow that "he or him" never got linked to me! Many years thus passed - as studies and other interests grew and travel during the vacations increased I seldom visited the "gaon". My Dad was simply too good a gentleman with "If they are enjoying the gun let it stay at gaon for everybody's timepass." Add to it was the fact that the relatives were all from Mom's side and my Dad was heavily loved and respected for his magnamit, which also included his scolding me when I fought for my rights. Years passed, I gave up shooting only take up a basic course at Savarkar Smarak range (it was very primordial then) in 1989 after getting encouraged by my school mate, Abhijit Bam becoming Mumbai Sub-Junior Shooting Champ and then getting "discouraged" at the MRA in 1985. Subsequently I went off to the USA and things unfolded as they should - getting married, becoming Dad, staying in US for 11 yr, surviving the 9-11 etc. etc. and eventual return to India in 2003, losing my own Dad, becoming Dad all over again in 2004 and so on. I then visited the "gaon" almost every year. I saw her hanging on the wall, lonesome and furlong; utterly neglected. Something stirred within but I suppressed it telling Self that there's no point in taking up shooting and that I had two small children - so such a "dangerous" toy better stay away... She still looked like a gun - so once I actually took a mixture of kerosene and coconut oil which were handy at the gaon and coated her.
Fast Forward to 2009-10:
I chanced upon my other friend from school, Vishwajeet Shinde and got to talking about out good old "kabbaddi" days. Though our school was Maharashtra Cricket Champions (Harris and Giles shields) several times over and though in 1985 (our batch getting out of Std. X) defeated Shardashram that had a couple of stars in making who a few months down the road set up a record of runs against Anjuman-i-Islam, it nonetheless encouraged Indian games like Kabbaddi, Kho-Kho, Langadi, Dodge Ball (aba-dubi) etc. So as we talked the topic turned to what Vishwajeet did currently and that turned out to be shooting; of all things. Very modestly he mentioned that he was a shooting champ and won several medals at state, national and international levels. So I confessed to him about my first love and how the "jaleem duniyaa" tore us apart.
Then it took him a few months to finally get me over to the 'Smarak' just to take a look at the new range that had gone a drastic and welcome change under him. As we decided to meet family-on-family on the side, he offered my wife an N25 asking her to shoot if she wanted. The target was of course set at a chivalrous distance of 10 ft. Then my daughter who daintily shot 3-4 pellets and then with a "Hoooshh" declared that she was too young to shoot and that her arms were tired. The son who wanted to shoot could not hold the gun and wanted a few things - one, the wall be removed, two, the gun be made lighter and smaller and three, I hold both him and the gun and he would only shoot. So he was bribed with a sandwich and a chocolate and asked to sit back and "advise" the Baba (that would be moi) on how to shoot. Finally, Vishwajeet coaxed me into "Why not shoot ten on a card full distance (10m) ? - just for fun???" I readily agreed and shot. 3 landed in white and 7 in black. "Why not go again ?" - Vishwajeet - "Sure" - me. So I went again and then again. Of the next 20 all but 2 landed in black. Boy ! Was I happy!!! So he asked me "Enjoyed ?" "Yes" - gushed I. The he advised me - "Why not train yourself properly in shooting ? Then you can shoot this card." He now showed me the "air rifle" card - what was shot at was the larger "Pistol" card. I said "Ok - lemme think about it" and the day and the meet ended. He followed up practically every week until I finally signed in the basic training course and got hooked. After improving on my rifle shots, he advised me to shift to pistol. I am very grateful to him for all he did.
Towards the end of last year I started called up on my cousins etc. who would be visiting the "gaon" to get back the Chinese AR with them. None did. However, somehow, someone, did not quite appreciate the idea that I was reclaiming my AR. The AR got hacked and beaten and scractched almost to the point of junk. The stock got broke off in 3 pieces the foresight was hammered the rear sight slide was hammered into an "S" from a straight "I". The seals were shredded and every metal piece was rusted and since I oiled last none had bothered to put even a drop of oil through or on her. The break barrel link-slider was twisted. But the "fool" (whosoever he was/ is) had kept the barrel intact. Hell, even the name stamp on the receiver was "punched" and poke-marked. That was the state I "rescued" her in the April-May of 2011.
Now in 2011:
Thanks to the fact that I had already become a member of the forum, I read up on gun smithing, tuning etc. etc. and some hope crept in. I had an failed experience with opening and reassembling of Marksman 1010. Anyway I could not do worse to this AR and so I "opened" her up. Took photos of all the pieces. Turned out a few gun screws were missing and ordinary were put in. Someone obviously had flicked the originals. The piston was a bit out of shape and so was the receiver tube. The piston seal screw was broken and jammed inside and just about every bits and pieces and a couple of dead spiders were nesting on the spring. I sanded things that could be sanded, lubed things that could be lubed and used my strength to un-twist the twisted. When I thought things were finally looking up, Maneka and her Delhi High Court struck and every piece needed for the overhaul went AWOL.
Then I kept searching and hunting from Crawford Market to Thane and even got furniture screws and door stoppers etc. But the 1-phase and 3-phase machines needed to get the things in shape were out of my reach and so was the stock. That was when our very own, Shri. Brihacharan, came to the rescue. He had an IHP stock that he could sell me. When I tried to fix the action I realized that front notches were an inch off. He advised me not to try anything adventurous with the wood myself and instead seek help from a good gunsmith. Plus there was the problem that the slider stopper kept popping out of the slot after every shot and there was no piston seal. The threads inside the piston were gone too and it required a good "tap". So I sat at the "charan" of Brihacharan and he pointed me to one of the gunsmiths he had corresponded with in Mumbai who was an ex-member of IFG and a designer of a PCP. "The guy knows his stuff and better take the AR and stock to him than to the dude at Crawford Market" - Brihji advised. Thus I visited Rajesh with a couple of fellow friends at Ghansoli a few days back. He heard me out patiently - all the travails and the wails and the laments and assured me that he shall do justice to the AR. My top priority was restoration than tuning; but if the "works" could be done; well, nothing like it. The fellow IFGians also sought their rifles be tuned and got their wish fulfilled. Since my piston had got pinched and the spring caught within, Rajesh advised me to change the spring as well - "A little bit extra cost but worth it". I OKed. And so my AR took a few extra days as screws needed to be sourced and were a bit tough to find. Yesterday, I got the AR in my hand and words fail to describe the feeling.Epilog:
The "testing" was not satisfactorily. (But) Cocking and firing cycle never felt so good - in fact the first time I did not even realized that the gun was cocked. A few things have to be borne in mind - she is >30 yr old, Indians pellets did not fit in snugly with one exception and the gun dieseled whenever the skirt left a gap in the breech. Plus have to let off a break in period. However, the one pellet that responded well was grouping fairly. Remember this gun is not known for its accuracy or power. She was an entry level plinking springer gun from PRC in the 1970s-early 80s when the Chinese had not quite adopted the Quality standards they have today. So all I do now is wait, fire and hope that she lives up. That she's resurrected is already an expectation met.
(Edited/ Corrected (Oct 24) a bit since original post. The door stoppers were to formulate a piston seal. Put the seals on a drilling machine and used a screwdriver/ knife to shave off the material to bring to desired diameter. Did not work since the threads inside the piston were obliterated. The broken screw was first removed by gas welding the metal stick to it - "Taakaa" (in welder parlance) - then using plier to get it out. *NO* prizes for guessing the "stars in making" from Shardashram school who we beat in 1985.
One of them almost became a star while the other rose to become the superstar. Those days kids really played their "maidani" games in ‘maidan’ and seldom in parking lots. We ran after the balls (rubber ones, of course 
) dived, got scratched and fielded ourselves rather than let the cars and bikes do fielding for us. All in all, it was a nice time when we were growing up. )
