India and China see eye to eye

While I cannot totally admit that the game of chess is a closed book to me, it can be safely stated that beyond being aware of how each of the pieces moves on the chess board, I will not be able to claim even the slightest degree of proficiency. I have, on the odd occasion, to while away the time on a rainy evening, made a few smart moves with a friend. Within five minutes of the start of the game, I hear the words ‘check mate,’ not uttered by me and it’s all over in a trice. After that, I am unable to bring myself to play another game, fully cognizant that I will hear ‘check mate’ again from the other side of the board with that deadly ring of finality and snootiness which is so off-putting. It matters not a whit whether I am playing the white or black pieces. The result is the same.

Under these circumstances, following the game has also been an arduous task when international stars square off against each other, timer at the ready. Several decades ago, even if the intricacies of the game escaped me, one could follow, in a very superficial way, the world championships involving the likes of Spassky, Fischer, Karpov, Korchnoi and others, mostly from the eastern bloc countries, the American firebrand Fischer being an exception. One reason for even this distant interest in the game could have been that chess in those days had a great deal of political significance. When Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky went eyeball to eyeball over the 64 squares for the world championships at Reykjavik in 1972 it was, in a sense, Richard Nixon taking on  Leonid Brezhnev. Chess was a metaphor for international intrigue. The chess wizards themselves were merely pawns, if you will excuse the unintended pun, doing their masters’ bidding against the kings, queens and knights. The bishops were merely supplicants while the rooks stuck to the straight and narrow. In short, Communism versus Capitalism. As to why they decided to play in the capital of Iceland, the only plausible explanation could be that a neutral venue would have neutralised any political tension that would have been palpable.

That was about as much interest, growing up, that I evinced in a game which, as per conventional wisdom, was discovered in India. An admonishing slap on the wrists is in order. After all, life is not all about cricket, football and tennis. Things have changed now. Ever since Vishwanathan Anand had the world and India agog with his brilliant moves, India is now home to a profusion of international grand masters – both men and women. In truth, many of them are just mere boys and girls, their mothers and fathers accompanying them all over the world with home cooked food in tiffin carriers. I don’t mean that literally, about the tiffin carriers, but home food being cooked in their hotel rooms by Amma is now de rigueur. It comes as no surprise, therefore that an Indian, D. Gukesh, all of 18 summers old, is vying for the title of World Chess Champion right now against his Chinese opponent Ding Liren in Singapore. And it promises to be a battle royal. India pitted against China. If nothing else, I decided that out of sheer patriotism, I should follow the proceedings of this tournament for world chess glory. Particularly at a time when the two uneasy neighbours are exhibiting signs of a thaw. Let Rohit Sharma, Virat Kohli and company duck and weave against the bouncing, moving ball in Australia. I shall sit firmly behind young Gukesh and urge him on.

That is all very well but the first challenge was to figure out where and how to watch this all-important board game, not reputed to be a thrilling spectator sport. A spot of research told me that YouTube was a good option. Thither I streamed, if streamed is the word I want and hey presto, I had a ring side seat from the comfort of my home. A steaming cup of tea and a plateful of cream crackers and I was all set. When I first tuned in, all I could see were the two protagonists (or antagonists) with their chins resting in the palm of their hands and just staring at each other. I could discern no movement of any kind. Were they just trying to stare each other down, some kind of subtle psychological ploy? I was not even sure whose move it was. They were so still, not even the merest blink of an eye was in evidence. I was sure there was a cable snag and that the picture had stalled.

After about six minutes of this fine imitation of still life featuring two statues sitting becalmed, Gukesh suddenly came to life, got up and started walking around, which took his stock-still Chinese opponent completely by surprise. By then I had finished my cuppa and four cream crackers. Still, action was afoot and that was something. Gukesh was walking, Gukesh sat down. Now it was Liren’s turn to get up and get some exercise. This was getting exciting. I could not take my eyes off the screen. After a few minutes of perambulating, Liren too sat down and the two of them started again with the staring.

I know there are some rules governing how much time a player might take to make his move. It was clear that they are given a long rope. Time was not pressing on them. Now that I was getting the hang of things, I decided I would scan the nation’s news front before returning to the chess. Someone was complaining about the poor performance of the government on the economy side of things, GDP clocking in at a miserable 5.4%, but that things will improve from herein on. Is anyone really worried about the GDP figures? Are we travelling less or eating less because of the declining GDP? Is Adani or Ambani concerned about the GDP? Come to that, is the vegetable vendor on my street concerned about it? I rest my case. Meanwhile, India has lost three more wickets in Adelaide and hurtling towards defeat. Social media is full of ‘Virat and Rohit must go,’ and Gambhir along with them – throw the baby out with the bathwater. They might change their minds after one or both of them score centuries in the next Test in Brisbane. Hope springs eternal and we are so fickle in our loyalties.

Now back to the chess. Amazing news from Singapore! Liren has moved his black pawn up one square to bravely confront Gukesh’s threatening bishop. It took about 50 minutes but he seemed well satisfied, rubbing his palms and looking smug. After which they went back to sitting and staring at each other. By now Liren had committed to memory how many hairs there were on Gukesh’s preternaturally hirsute face. Gukesh was at a disadvantage here because Liren, literally on the face of it, appeared to be completely hairless, facially speaking – a smooth operator.  Had Liren been familiar with the Book of Genesis, which I greatly doubt, he might have recalled Jacob’s immortal one-liner, ‘My brother Esau is a hairy man and I am a smooth man.’ Instead, the prodigy from Tamil Nadu fell to humming one of A.R. Rahman’s latest tunes sotto voce. Liren was not best pleased, but that was the idea. At this point, I broke for lunch.

I then took a brief, post prandial siesta and returned to the scene of action. In the blink of an eye, about 90 minutes that is, the two chess wizards had made as many as three moves between them. Lightning kids! This was getting too frenetic for me. My pulse was racing. I decided to call it a day. Next morning’s papers revealed that Gukesh had outwitted Liren and taken an overall lead of 6 games to 5, still 4 games of riveting action to go. This short-lived lead was nullified the following day by Liren, crying ‘Vengeance is mine’ in Mandarin. That’s what happens with chess. Take your eyes away for a few hours and the next thing you know everything is topsy-turvy.

I am now having second thoughts on how closely I wish to follow this time-consuming game of kings and queens. I think I will turn my attention to bridge, a card game about which I am clueless. Now to find that book on contract bridge by Edwin Kantar that my uncle presented to me 35 years ago which is still gathering dust up in the loft, pristinely unopened. Will it be a bridge too far? Who can tell? In which case I shall take up Chinese checkers.

‘Check mate.’ That was Liren drawing level with Gukesh. The battle rages on.