This central Maharashtra district woke up one morning to the horror of finding one of its own boys, Mohammed Faiyaz, 24, emerge a key suspect in the July 11 train blasts in Mumbai. Then, Navanath Faratade, a hugely talented but as yet fringe marksman from a village here, surprised India’s shooting fraternity assembled in Zagreb for the World Championships with a stunning score of 596 out of a possible 600.

Faratade had never bettered 593 on his Fenwick P70, even in training, to merit serious consideration. But then, neither had Faiyaz attracted attention—not the least that could hint at his turning into a dreaded conduit for terror.

Son of a school teacher, Faiyaz was known to speak little.

Faratade, born to a marginal farmer in the elevated plateau-village of Charhata, was also reserved by disposition. Before he moved to Kolhapur at 11, he often spent hours on his farm atop a hill, glancing into a geography text-book and wondering if he would ever visit the thick-black-dots of Delhi or Mumbai. He rarely made conversation, and spoke only when spoken to. Beed’s seeming silence then gave way to contrasting actions.

Faratade, picked by the state government’s talent-spotting scheme went on to Akola and then proceeded to Krida Prabodhini in Kolhapur, flexing his fingers on the trigger of an air rifle, breaking away from the tending of a four-acre plot, of which only two-and-a-half acre was cultivable.

Faiyaz, meanwhile, had spurned the possibility of cultivating the family’s four-hectare farm, and given up on studying agriculture. About Faratade’s going away, his elder brother Ashok, a guard with the CRPF, fighting Naxalism in Chhattisgarh said, “It has been difficult for his parents, seeing him go away at a very young age. For two years at a stretch he hasn’t met his parents, and has only spoken to them on the phone.”

In Charhata, there are two traditions, both of which Navanath broke away from.

The hamlet of 3,000 has produced some 200 kabaddi players, with many taking up the game with an eye on state government jobs. Then there are those who join the police or paramilitary — almost every house has a male member in uniform.

But with a talent scout spotting him, Faratade was taken away for training at Krida Prabodhini, a range in Kolhapur.

‘‘For a long time, my friends would think shooting was film shooting,’’ the 20-year-old shooting wonder jokes.

‘‘But Prabodhini gave me a good opportunity to beat poverty. Now, I want to take charge of my parents’ well-being,’’ he says.

Having thrived on hardships, Faratade isn’t really weary of the crowded field in air-rifle shooting in India with top-shots like Gagan Narang and Abhinav Bindra. Says his coach Ajit Patil, ‘‘What he achieved in Zagreb is owing to adversity, not really despite it. Now, he has to build on consistency bit-by-bit. We expect results only in the 2010 Commonwealth and the 2012 Olympics, but his exceptional drive will take him through.’’

‘‘It’s up to him what course he charts from here on,’’ says father Bhanudas.

All around Beed, similar concerns over children are keeping fingers crossed.