Check, mate?
If more people were interested in chess, we could have reached the dawn of enlightenment much quicker. Of course, there is no empirical data to support this posit or an ethical compass to point us in the right direction. Besides, we don’t really know what nirvana is all about. Those who claim to be enlightened might tell you that it’s a possible endeavour. But then, that’s like me advising a smoker that it’s easy to quit just because I don’t know what being addicted to nicotine could feel. Conversely, it’s like a gym rat formulating that all my worries about my health are inside my head and all I’ve got to do is focus. Mind over matter, remember?
Coming back to chess, the beauty of its ensemble lies in its clarity. All the moves, every single one, are supposed to have a purpose. Something we wish we could replicate in our day-to-day life. If you mull over it, you’ll notice that a major part of our day is spent on auto-mode. We do things without even thinking about it. From waking up to laying the toothpaste on the toothbrush to using the same fingers to book an Uber to walking up the stairs and so on — the routine ensures that we don’t get to step back and think.
Chess makes you think.
There is no other option. You can’t stroll in the park with this battlefield. Once you’re in, you are in completely. Which is why I call it my favourite non-sport (non-sport because it’s calorie-friendly); second only to fighting for a bigger slice of cake. You can hate violence and can’t tolerate blood but you will have to do everything kosher to bring down your opponent’s horses and elephants. One good move and you’re pumped to step further up the squares. One bad move and you want to punch yourself in the nose. That’s life in a nutshell, right? Wrong. That’s chess in its entirety.
Life is similar to this board game though; not very different from our existential colours. Chess too has its black and white, ups and downs, calm and war, moments and regrets. The only difference being there is little room left for indiscipline or inconsistency. There are several lessons—humility and patience being two of them — to gulp when you are playing someone better than you. And it’s always advisable to find those who are much stronger than you. Not only will your game improve, perhaps, you might too.
Some of us learnt how to play from our dads or moms or uncles or grandparents. And there’s a sentimental connect to this bit of personal history. We rarely get to hear that somebody learnt cricket or football from their family members. Chess, being an indoor property, has a sense of belonging that is unique to a home. However, it doesn’t mean that the style of playing must be similar to those you picked up the skills from. Chances are you redefine blitz and at the same time, chances are you’d take longer than a lizard to make your next move.
It’s all up to you.
Somebody recently confessed to me that he finds chess boring and brainy. I had to explain that chess can be boring, yes, but not exactly brainy. Making sure you don’t push the door that says PULL is brainy. Chess, on the other hand, is magical. It demands utmost attention from you—and not just your brain — without expecting you to be anybody else. It’s more about protecting what’s yours. Anyway, what really matters is you play your dear best and within the spirit of the game. There are a lot of stuff out there worth testing ourselves against but not many of them can claim the the expression ‘well played’ as neatly as chess would when the board folds.
