The Life of
64 squares
1
(Text) Copyright © 2023 Arvind Iyer
Arvind Iyer asserts the moral right to be identified as the
author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of the
publication may be copied, reproduced, downloaded,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or
by any means without the prior written permission of the
publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of
binding or cover or digital format other than that in
which it is published and without a similar condition
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The views and opinions expressed in this book are the
author’s own, and the facts are as reported by him and
have been verified to the extent possible. The publishers
are not in any way liable for the same.
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Contents
1. About the Author
2. Chapter 1 - Entering the world of
64 squares
3. Chapter 2 – The Tournament
4. Chapter 3 – Steps towards the
world Championship
5. Chapter 4 - World championship!
6. Chapter 5 – The life after World
Championship
7. Chapter 6 - The Legacy
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About the author
The author of the book is a 15year old smart and talkative boy;
Arvind Iyer. He lives in Mumbai,
Maharashtra, India. He is playing
chess for 8 years and since he
was in 2nd standard. He is
currently studying for his boards
in upcoming months and has
paused his chess. This is his
debut {first} novel and this book
narrates his whole chess career.
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Chapter 1 - Entering the
world of 64 squares
In 2015, when I was 7 years old,
my father introduced me to a world
that would shape my life in ways I
could never have imagined. It was a
world of 64 squares, a battlefield
where intellect and strategy reigned
supreme, a world known simply as
chess.
I can still recall that day with
clarity. My father and I were both
excited. He knew that this day
would mark the beginning of a new
journey.
5
The chessboard sat between us, an
8x8 grid of alternating black and
white squares. My eyes fixated on
the carved wooden pieces, each with
its unique form and role. The
pawns, soldiers, stood at the front
lines, their duty was to protect the
royalty behind them. Knights, those
horsemen, held a mystical aura as
they moved in an L-shape across the
board. Bishops, slender and elegant,
moved in diagonals. The rooks,
resembling miniature castles, were
solid and unyielding, while the
queen, the most powerful of them all,
sat next besides its king. And then
there was the king, the center of it
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all, a figure whose capture spelled
victory or defeat.
"Let's begin," my father said. He
kept all the pieces onto the board one
by one and described its movement,
use and advantages. He made me
realise the importance of every piece
on the board. It was a cinematic
experience. Later, he asked me to
play a game with him. I also agreed
and we started to play.
He gently pushed a pawn
forward, revealing the mysteries of
its initial two-square move. I
mirrored his move, and moved my
pawn ahead. It was a simple
beginning, but I could sense the
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weight of potential that lay within
those 64 squares.
As the game unfolded, the pieces
on the board became characters in a
grand narrative, each with its own
role to play in the unfolding drama.
But, eventually, I lost but I gained a
lot of knowledge about chess and
was happy about that.
As weeks turned into months,
my fascination with chess deepened.
I spent countless hours studying
books filled with annotated games,
learning from the masters of the
past. I analyzed positions,
deciphering the subtleties of pawn
structures and the beauty of well8
executed combinations. Chess opened
up a world of intellectual
exploration, a vast landscape of
possibilities waiting to be explored.
Across the board, I faced
opponents of various skill levels and
temperaments. Some played
aggressively, seeking immediate
victory, while others adopted a more
patient, positional approach. Each
game was a unique story, a clash of
personalities expressed through
moves and counter-moves.
My journey into the world of
chess took me far beyond the
confines of my home. I began to
participate in local tournaments,
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where I faced opponents from diverse
backgrounds and age groups. The
chessboard became a universal
language that transcended barriers
of language and culture. It was a
testament to the power of the human
mind, a domain where age, gender,
and social status mattered nil
compared to the quality of one's
ideas and strategies.
In those early years, I learned
valuable life lessons through chess. I
learned the importance of patience,
of thinking before acting. I learned
that setbacks and losses were not
failures but opportunities for growth
and improvement. The chessboard
taught me resilience and the art of
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adapting to changing
circumstances. It taught me that
success often required sacrifices,
just as in life.
As I look back on that
momentous day when I first entered
the world of 64 squares, I realize
that chess has been more than a
game to me. It has been a lifelong
companion, a source of inspiration,
and a vehicle for personal growth. It
has introduced me to remarkable
individuals, from fellow enthusiasts
to grandmasters, each with their
unique stories and perspectives.
In the pages that follow, I will
recount my journey through the
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world of chess, from the local
tournaments of my youth to the
grand stages of international
competition. I will share the
triumphs and defeats, the moments
of joy and frustration, and the
profound insights that chess has
bestowed upon me. It is a journey
that spans decades, a journey that
has shaped the person I am today.
And as I continue to navigate the
intricate terrain of those 64
squares, I remain grateful for the
timeless lessons and boundless
horizons that chess has offered me.
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Chapter 2 – The
Tournament
In the world of chess,
tournaments are a series of chess
games played competitively to
determine a winning individual.
This is the story of "The
Tournament."
The year was 2017, a time when
chess enthusiasts from every corner
of the world converged on the
vibrant city of Mumbai. I was very
excited as I entered the tournament
hall, a cavernous space filled with
players and chessboards.
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My heart pounded as I took my
seat at the chessboard. Across from
me sat my first-round opponent
and the clock, sat between us and
began its relentless countdown. It
was a duel of minds, a clash of
strategies, and the start of a journey
filled with triumphs,
disappointments, and revelations.
The opening moves, familiar and
practiced, flowed like a wellchoreographed dance. My fingers
moved with purpose, advancing my
pieces to key squares. The opening
was critical, a canvas upon which
the tapestry of the game would be
woven. Each move was a
brushstroke, each exchange a
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shifting of hues, and with each
passing moment, the position on the
board took on a unique character.
My opponent was no novice; he
played with precision and cunning,
probing for weaknesses in my
defences. The tension in the room
was palpable, a silent symphony of
minds at work. Spectators hushed
their conversations to watch our
duel, as if aware that they were
witnessing something momentous.
The game evolved into a complex
middlegame, where the dynamics
shifted with every move. It was a
time of calculation, of evaluating
the consequences of each choice, and
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of navigating the labyrinth of
variations that lay ahead. The clock,
that unrelenting arbiter of time,
reminded me that every decision
needed to be swift and precise.
As the game progressed, I found
myself faced with a critical
decision. Should I initiate a pawn
break to open up my opponent's
position, or should I maintain the
status quo, seeking to build up my
position slowly but steadily? The
clock ticked ominously in the
background as I weighed the risks
and benefits.
In a bold move, I chose to open up
the position, sacrificing a pawn to
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gain dynamic possibilities. It was a
calculated gamble, a decision that
could lead to victory or spell doom.
My opponent responded with a sharp
counterattack, and the battle raged
on.
Hours passed like minutes as we
navigated the complexities of the
middlegame. The chessboard became
a battlefield, where knights, bishops,
and rooks clashed with unyielding
resolve. The audience watched in
hushed awe, their whispers reduced
to mere echoes in the vast hall.
The climax of the game
approached as the endgame drew
near. Material imbalances and pawn
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structures took center stage. With
my heart pounding and adrenaline
surging, I maneuvered my
remaining pieces with precision,
seeking to exploit the weaknesses I
had created earlier. It was a test of
nerves, a challenge of calculation,
and the final moves held the promise
of victory.
In a moment of exquisite tension,
I executed a brilliant combination
that led to the decisive advantage.
My opponent's face betrayed a
flicker of resignation as he realized
the futility of resistance. With a
profound sense of satisfaction, I
delivered the checkmate that sealed
my victory.
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The applause that erupted in the
tournament hall was a symphony
of approval, a recognition of the
battle we had just fought. But this
was only the beginning. The
tournament stretched before me like
an epic saga, a series of trials and
tribulations that would test my
skills, resilience, and
determination.
As the days passed, I faced a
succession of opponents, each with
their unique style and challenges.
Some games ended in victories that
filled me with pride, while others
concluded in bitter defeats that
fuelled my determination to
improve. I met fellow competitors
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from diverse backgrounds, forged
friendships, and shared the
camaraderie that only chess players
understand.
One particular game stands out
in my memory. It was against a
young prodigy, a player half my
age with a fiery passion for the
game. The opening moves flowed
with astonishing speed, and it soon
became clear that I was facing a
formidable opponent. The game
reached a critical juncture where I
had to rely on all my experience to
outmanoeuvre my opponent. It was a
gruelling battle of attrition, a true
test of my ability to adapt and
strategize under pressure.
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In the end, I emerged victorious,
but not without a newfound respect
for the young talent across the
board. It was a reminder that in
chess, age is no barrier to excellence,
and the game continually evolves as
new generations of players bring
their innovations to the board.
As the tournament neared its
conclusion, I found myself among
the top contenders. The pressure was
relentless, the games intense, and
the stakes higher than ever. Every
move was analyzed, every decision
scrutinized, and every game held
the promise of either glory or
heartache.
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In the final rounds, I faced off
against formidable grandmasters,
players whose names were
synonymous with chess excellence.
Each game was a masterclass in
strategy, a display of deep opening
preparation and flawless endgame
technique. The outcomes were
uncertain until the last move, and
every victory was hard-fought and
well-earned.
In the end, I did not emerge as the
overall champion of the tournament.
That honour belonged to a
grandmaster whose mastery of the
game was awe-inspiring. But the
result was inconsequential. What
mattered was that "The Tournament"
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had been a transformative
experience, a crucible that had tested
my limits, deepened my
understanding of chess, and
reaffirmed my love for the game.
As I left the tournament hall, the
echoes of intense games and
whispered analysis faded into the
background. What remained were
the lessons learned, the memories
created, and the knowledge that the
journey through the world of chess
was an ongoing adventure. "The
Tournament" was a pivotal chapter
in my life as a chess player, a
reminder that the pursuit of
excellence was a path with no end,
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only new challenges and discoveries
awaiting at every turn.
24
Chapter 3 - Steps towards
the world Championship
To participate in the World
Championship, I played countless
games, solved innumerable puzzles
and practised 24/7. After "The
Tournament," where I had faced
some of the best players on the
planet, I knew that my journey was
not a piece of cake.
I found a mentor whose wisdom
and experience would prove
invaluable on my journey.
Grandmaster Raghav Anand, a
stalwart of the chess world. His
mentorship was not just about chess
strategy and tactics, although those
25
played a significant role. It was
about the mental fortitude required
to withstand the rigors of high-level
competition. He taught me to
harness the power of visualization,
to stay calm under pressure, and to
maintain an unwavering belief in
my abilities.
Under his guidance, I fine-tuned
my opening repertoire, delving into
the depths of chess theory. We
analyzed countless games,
dissecting the moves and strategies
of the opponents who had come before
us. His insights were a treasure
trove of knowledge, and I soaked
them up like a sponge.
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But perhaps the most valuable
lesson he imparted was the art of
resilience. He reminded me that
setbacks were an integral part of a
chess player's journey. He recounted
tales of his own struggles, the losses
that had taught him more than any
victory ever could. It was a lesson in
humility, a reminder that even the
greatest players had faced defeats
on their path to greatness.
To reach the echelons of the chess
elite, sacrifices were inevitable. The
pursuit of chess excellence
demanded unwavering dedication,
often at the expense of other pursuits.
It meant long hours of study, a
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regimented lifestyle, and a
relentless focus on the game.
Social gatherings and leisure
activities sometimes took a backseat
to chess. It was a choice I made
willingly, knowing that the pursuit
of a World Championship required
sacrifices that few could
comprehend.
Countless nights were spent
poring over chess books and
analyzing games. The chessboard
became an extension of myself, a
canvas on which I painted my
dreams and aspirations. But the
sacrifices were not without their
rewards—the thrill of victory, the
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satisfaction of seeing my skills
evolve, and the knowledge that I was
on the right path.
In the chess world, the path to the
World Chess Championship is
determined through a gruelling
series of qualifying events. The
Asian Tournament is the crucible
where the challengers to the reigning
World Champion earn their right to
compete for the title.
Years of hard work culminated
in my qualification for the Asian
Tournament. It was a moment of
triumph, a realization that I was one
step away from the ultimate
showdown—the World Chess
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Championship match. The
excitement was palpable, but it was
tempered by the knowledge that the
competition in the Asian
Tournament would be the fiercest I
had ever faced.
As the tournament drew nearer,
my preparation intensified. I
analyzed the games of my potential
opponents, seeking weaknesses and
formulating strategies. Anand sir
and I spent countless hours
simulating tournament conditions,
sharpening my mental acuity and
improving my physical endurance.
The Asian Tournament itself was
a gruelling test of skill and nerve.
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The world's top players converged in
a fierce battle of wits. Each game
was a high-stakes affair, with the
victory moving one step closer to the
coveted World Championship match.
The games were filled with
tension, bluffs, and calculated
risks. I faced moments of brilliance
and moments of despair. The
competition was relentless, and my
every move was scrutinized by
experts and fans alike. But I held
my ground, fighting fiercely in
every game, and when the dust
settled, I emerged as one of the
contenders for the World
Championship.
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Chapter 4 - World
Championship!
My heart thumps in my ears. My
fingernails mock me; over the next
few hours, they could be ravaged. A
World Championship match can
transform its protagonists. You are
never the same after it.
Amma manages a benign smile
as we wait, wordless and anxious, to
leave for the game. It’s the worst time
for small talk. I search my mind for
a tune to hum, but the nervous
energy gushing through me
dismisses the idle thought.
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I feel Amma’s hand on mine. It’s
what the subarctic tundra must feel
like. Time to go, she gestures.
As the car zips out of the
driveway, it hits me like shrapnel:
This is the point of no return. Seated
to my right, Amma watches me,
sees my hands tremble and holds
them in a tight clasp.
‘I need to speak to Raj sir,’ I hear
myself say. ‘I can’t recall a thing.’
Rajesh Sengupta, Raj sir, is one of
my four trainers for the match. At
21, he’s the youngest yet strongest
member in the team.
Amma grapples with the two
chunky mobile phones she’s
holding, picks one up and dials at a
feverish pace. We wait in silence for
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a voice to come to life at the other
end. The phone rings itself out. We
look at each other. She tries a second
time. Still no answer. ‘Try the
others,’ I offer, surprised that I still
have some dregs of pragmatism left
in me.
The three pale-blue-and-silver
inclined cones of the Burj Al Arab,
the match venue, now tower ahead of
us.
Amma asks the driver to park a
few metres away, thumbs through
the contact list on the phone and
dials the numbers of the three
remaining members of my team –
Sarvesh Satyagraha, Rudra Nair
and Md. Nasiruddin Shaik. No one
answers. All we hear is the dull
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ringing and our hearts pounding. I
chide myself for scouring for
omens, and yet I can’t help but
think they weirdly have a way of
proving their efficacy.
Oblivious to the doom and gloom
behind him, the driver turns on the
ignition and pulls up at the venue
with a gentle screech. Amma climbs
out. I stay put, undecided. She
throws a mild reprimand my way,
‘Onnum pannamudiyathu, ma…
Poi velaiyadu’. ‘There’s nothing that
can be done now…Go, play’.
We reach the revolving door of the
theatre. It’s locked. We manage a
pale smile at each other and wonder
why the gods are against us.
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Someone tries to force open the iron
door nearby, but it won’t budge.
‘Use the other entrance,’ Amma
mouths as the security staff spring
to their feet.
I decide to look down at my feet.
Eye contact is best avoided minutes
before a game. I don’t want a
stranger, an acquaintance or a fan
running up to me with offerings of
bravado or luck. As my steps
quicken to reach the entrance,
Amma looks hazy in the distance.
My opponent, Asif Ali, assumes
form ahead of me. The arbiter wears
a polite smile as we take our seats. I
adjust my knights to face the
enemy forces. It’s a quirk I carry.
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Ali is hunched over the board, his
elbows resting on the table. We’ve
known each other since our school
times, but for this match we’re
nothing other than exacting rivals.
Only one of us will go home a World
Champion.
The match began, I was black
and Ali played the first move 1. d4
{he moved his queen pawn}. All Is
Well, I tell myself, as I consume the
icy-cold rose milk. I mirror his move
and nudge my Black queen’s pawn
by two squares. The match
continued on and an intense battle
between me and Ali occurred over the
board. I was very anxious and
alarmed.
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At move 128th, I promoted my
pawn into a queen {In chess,
promotion is the replacement of a
pawn with a new piece when the
pawn is moved to its last rank} and
now, Ali’s king was under check
and he was going to lose his queen. I
had calculated the variation of 14
moves already in my mind. It was
exhausting. After thinking for
around 13 minutes, even Ali had
realized that he has lost! I had still
not taken a sigh of relief because I
remembered a saying Amma used
to say ‘The game is not over until
the last ball is bowled’.
Ali showed sportsmanship and
hence resigned the match. {In chess
resignation means accepting
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defeat}. I took a deep sigh of relief. I
was possessing euphoric.
The first thing I wanted to do
was to run towards Amma hug her
and inform her ‘I won!’. I controlled
my emotions, I arranged the board
back and shook hands with Ali.
Then, I ran towards Amma, hugged
her and said, “Amma, naan
jaichuten” {Amma, I won}. She was
thrilled and delighted to hear me
say this line. She hugged back and
said, “Superb! Champ”.
And this is how I became the U15 World Champion. I can still
remember the feeling of joy I was
possessing after hearing Ali resign.
It can’t be described in words!
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Chapter 5 – The life after
World Championship
I sank into the fluffy bed of the
hotel room in Dubai, with the feeling
of a World Champion.
Typically, tension keeps me
awake, but tonight I’d given up even
the pretence of sleep. It was 30
January 2022, and a few hours
since I’d been titled the ‘World
Champion’. I was still stuffed from
the Curd rice; a South Indian dish
made with precooked rice, Curd
(Indian Yogurt) herbs and
tempering spices. The organizers of
the World Championship
tournament, Arjun and Keshav
40
Srivastav, had treated my team and
me to a celebratory meal at a fine
Dubai restaurant housed in a
stately mansion. I’d cut into a
chocolate cake that read
‘Felicidades’, congratulations, in
white frosting as the Indian
National Song played outside.
At 13, it was my first World
Championship win.
The prize distribution ceremony
occurred where I was standing in
between the 2nd and 3rd winners. I
was awarded with a medal {made
from 24K gold} and a 5 feet trophy.
I felt proud of myself when the
Indian Nation Anthem was playing
for me.
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When I returned to India, at the
airport, I was astonished to see the
crowd gathered. They had thronged
the airport. The crowd was filled with
chess lovers and enthusiasts, and
had gathered at the airport to greet
me. In the crowd was a young,
unknown boy; he penetrated
through the crowd and finally
reached at the front. He called me by
saying “Bhaiya, Bhaiya”. Due to the
din created by the crowd, I couldn’t
hear the boy properly. I queried him
“What happened?”. He replied “Can
you please sign on my chessboard”,
and showed me the back of his board
and provided me a permanent
marker to sign. His voice was
euphonious. I accepted his request
42
and signed on the back of his
chessboard. He had a startling smile
at his face after having a glimpse of
me.
It was my first time at handling
such a huge crowd so the security
guards assisted me in making a
way towards my car. I am very
grateful to the guards who assisted
me that day!
I sat onto the car and left the
airport. The journey from the airport
to my house is of 100 km {approx.}
and at the speed of 40 kmph it takes
around 2.5 hours to reach my house.
My ola driver was having a rating
of 4.8 stars and astoundingly he
was also a chess enthusiast. My
profile name in Ola was
43
‘Chesschampion’, therefore he
couldn’t predict who the passenger
was. The moment he caught sight of
me, his jaw dropped down. He was
staggered.
The first few minutes of our
journey in the car went too busy, we
were adjusting ourselves and were
getting ready for an inordinately
long and exhausting journey. I was
undoubtedly missing ‘Home Sweet
Home’ and was waiting to see my
home with bated breath. After few
minutes, we got settled and were
now somewhat comfortable in the
car. The sun was effulgent, which
caused the temperature to be
blazing. To escape from the blazing
heat, Amma ordered the driver to
44
close the windows and turn on the
AC {Air conditioner}. Eventhough
the sun was effulgent, due to the
speed of the car, I was able to feel the
cool, windy breeze.
I am claustrophobic; I don’t feel
comfortable when its all closed. This
started a wrangle between me and
Amma. I wanted the windows to be
open whereas Amma wanted them to
be closed. I started off by pleading
but then, eventually, ended off
yelling.
Then, we had a voting session
where unfortunately everyone voted
for closed windows and eventually I
lost the wrangle. The driver closed
the windows and turned on the AC. I
started to feel uneasy, and hence
45
Amma advised me to sleep. I
disagreed and started playing on
my phone so that my attention is
diverted from uneasiness to
winning the game. And
fortunately, this plan worked
exceptionally well. My attention got
diverted from uneasiness to
winning the game and I wasn’t
feeling nausea.
We had reached half way and
worse luck my phone’s charging
had been consumed and my phone
switched off. I went on anxiety mode
as my attention returned back from
winning the game onto uneasiness.
I started to feel nausea. Amma
again asked me to sleep, this time I
listened to her and slept.
46
When my eyes opened up, I had
reached my home sweet home. I
deboarded the car, snatched away
the keys of our house from Amma
and dashed into my home. Amma
payed the ola driver and came in.
Everyone was hyperactive as even
they had slept in the car. We
dumped our luggage and changed
our clothes.
Amma turned off aeroplane mode
in her phone and was stunned to see
around 150 missed calls and more
than 1000 WhatsApp messages.
When she opened WhatsApp, the
messages caused the phone to hang.
She talked to everyone who had
called her earlier and replied to every
message. Meanwhile, I was replying
47
to the congratulations message my
friends sent me.
At night, we celebrated in a
restaurant nearby our house. All of
my family members had gathered
there. The celebration was too grand
and magnificent.
When we went back home, I
directly jumped onto my bed and
slept as I was extremely exhausted
and the next day, I had to go to
school.
I knew, in school, there would be
no celebration because we hadn’t
informed the school about my
accomplishment. The next day, As I
expected, no one knew about my
accomplishment and hence the day
went on to be normal.
48
Chapter 6 - The Legacy
Becoming World Chess
Champion was not just a personal
achievement; it was a responsibility.
It meant carrying the torch of chess
excellence, inspiring future
generations of players, and
contributing to the ongoing legacy
of the game.
My reign as World Champion
was marked by intense competition,
as challengers from around the
world vied for the title. Each match
was a test of skill, preparation, and
nerves, and I defended my title with
determination.
The path to the World Chess
Championship had been a
49
challenging one, filled with
sacrifices, triumphs, and setbacks.
It had taught me the value of
dedication, the importance of
resilience, and the depth of human
potential. It had shown me that the
pursuit of excellence was a journey
with no final destination, only new
horizons to explore.
And so, as I look back on my
journey from a chess enthusiast to a
World Chess Champion, I am filled
with gratitude for the game that has
shaped my life. Chess is more than
just a game; it is a reflection of the
human spirit, a testament to the
power of the mind, and a source of
endless fascination.
50
The quest for the World
Championship had been a defining
chapter in my life, but it was not the
end of my journey through the
world of 64 squares. It was a
reminder that in chess, as in life, the
pursuit of excellence is a journey
that continues, an odyssey of
discovery and growth that knows no
bounds!
51