When chess gets chaotic!

Chess is usually associated with silence, with immense concentration and a certain stillness. This is what you see externally, in tournaments with professionals. But what happens when 250 hyperactive kids (Grade 1 to 4) and their anxious parents are grouped together for an amateur chess tournament is nowhere any near to either silence or stillness.

I have participated in quite a few chess tournaments as a chess player but had never really bothered to notice  what it takes to organize one. Yesterday, my own chess coach (who initiated this whole tournament in the first place) was short of a few volunteers for the Grade 1-4 event. I was more than willing to help out. It was definitely a memorable experience!

In a perfect chess tournament, walk-in registration isn't allowed. Draws for the first round are ready. Rooms have endless rows of numbered tables. All people playing white sit on the left, black on the right. Chess boards aren't upturned before the result is officially recorded by an arbiter. Every illegal move is reported to the arbiter. And, silence prevails.

But, obviously, in a tournament with so many young kids and their overzealous parents, this wasn't going to happen. Objectively, the organizers (the chess coach and about 10 other people, me included) weren't at fault. The tables were perfectly numbered; each room was uniformly equipped and instructions were clearly given. I guess, order eludes when boisterous enthusiasm prevails! You really can'y do anything when children scratch out labels (oblivious to their importance), when they read draws wrongly or when they occasionally invent their own rules!

As an arbiter in 'Room 1' which hosted thirty tables (so sixty kids) for three rounds, I had quite some fun! I was called 'madam', 'didi', 'excuse me', 'Tanmay's (my famous chess playing nine year old brother) sister' and 'Aunty' (preposterous!!). I shouted myself hoarse to ensure that a player who is allotted white doesn't accidentally end up with black pieces and went nuts trying to sort through kids with same names. Four Aadityas, three Manans and so on. It got worse when people cleared the chess board without officially recording the result with me or when players argued about how many illegal moves the other had made after having restored the board to its original state. 

And then there were the parents. I mean no disrespect, but their presence is the single largest chaos-creator! Their anxiety penetrates everything. A few other volunteers later told me how they even ferried water and food from the parent to the kid because the parents couldn't enter the playing rooms. But the worst, I guess, is when they come with their sleeves rolled up, crying (nonexistent) injustice! I am glad I was holed up in Room 1 for the whole time without having to interact with these parents!

In retrospect though, it is actually quite interesting to see how these kids can actually play good quality chess through all this squabbling and confusion. They were all between six to eleven years of age; happily fiddled with their neighbour's pieces, but still managed to play impressively! I was quite amazed at their ability to concentrate through so much noise.

By the end of the tournament, I had successfully (and with a lot of help) handled thirty games for three rounds, officiated all kinds of illegal moves, mismatched positions, a crying child, an injured child and missing chess pieces!

And concluded that playing chess is way better.

Find x

You have hopefully read the blog post titled 'In search...Of a fictional character'. You would then remember that it was originally written as an essay on a prompt by the University of Chicago. I am a fan of their prompts. They are simply too good! I am going to write essays on as many of them as I can, because they are so thought provoking, offbeat and interesting. This is the first of the lot. I know it is a bit too long, but please read on!

Find x

We were first introduced in Grade 6, me and x. As a variable that is; I have known x as an alphabet longer. I was nonchalant about this new acquaintance since I found mathematics’ penetrating arms into the realms of language quite annoying. I thought math should stick to numbers. I wasn’t particularly fond of math back then.

X then, to me, was just something which was a part of a question you had to solve. Find x. So you made x the subject of your equation and solved it. Period. I have been doing that ever since. The equations have become increasingly complex and x has made its appearance across different subjects. Evidently, x isn’t exclusive to mathematics. But what is most interesting about this simple little alphabet is the fact that countless people have been on a quest to find it. Through time, notwithstanding borders, across fields, despite setbacks and aided by answers.

X began as a representation of what you had to find in an equation: one value for linear equations, two for the quadratic ones. Eventually, x was also the velocity of the given body as it approached relativistic speeds; it was also the heat of formation of a compound; it was the refractive index of flint glass; it was the number of cells undergoing mitosis; it was quite simply, the representation of the unknown. It is used in the same fashion: to represent a mystery or a question, to represent an unknown something. In fact, the original reason as to why and how x came to represent the unknown involves ‘the something’. From what I understand, algebra in its original form in Arabic meant ‘the something’. But when these concepts reached Europe and Spanish scholars tried to translate it, they realized that the Spanish language didn’t have the required corresponding sound for pronunciation. By mutual consent, they turned to a certain Greek alphabet. And when those Spanish texts were converted to Latin for the rest of Europe, they assumed the form of ‘x’.

I never realized how closely I had begun to associate x with the unknown till I noticed that x was on my to-do list. The list quite simply said ‘find x’. I had instinctively used x to represent something I was supposed to assign a value to. I was researching spoilage rates and contamination levels for tomato. I wanted to know how many tomatoes from a given known quantity fell prey to decay. Was it 10 out of every 100? I needed to find a value for an unknown. I needed to find x. Simple, isn’t it?!

By a combination of convention (Descartes’ book in 1637) and habit, even in any scientific equation with multiple variables, the unknown is always represented by x. I am sure you have often heard or said “Say x was to do the following…” Again, x is representative of the arbitrary unknown. But I have begun to wonder. What is x?

I have come to believe that x isn’t the unknown. It is the representation of the unknown. Is that different? I believe so. X, by this belief, isn’t what you want to find; it is what makes you find it. It is not the answer, nor is it the question. X is the purpose behind the question. X is the drive to ask and then to know. We don’t fulfill a question by finding x. We fulfill our curiosity to know. X is our curiosity.

Does this make x any easier to find? On the contrary, this just turned x from an assigned representative of the unknown to an intangible. Then, x is no longer the number of rotten tomatoes or the refractive index or even the answer to the good old quadratic. That is why despite having found it so many times, and in so many forms, we still strive to find it. We are inspired by x, by the desire to know and understand.

Or probably, this new perspective makes it easier to find; it is then everywhere. It is in Stephen Hawking’s simply stated desire to know how everything in the universe functions. It is in a newborn’s questioning gaze of the world. It is in those angst-ridden lyrics which question purpose and reason. And of course, it is in those math questions which we solve by the dozen.

But this brings forth a more fundamental question. Does finding x involve knowing WHAT is x, or does it mean knowing WHERE is x? I am not so sure. I think x is purpose, the drive to see and to seek, to expound and to explore. X isn’t the person to a ‘who’; it isn’t a reason to a ‘why’; it isn’t an explanation to a ‘what’ and it isn’t a story to a ‘how’. It is what makes the who, the why, the what and the how. It is what drives the question mark. And as to its whereabouts, I think x is simply everywhere. Curiosity doesn’t really have a fixed residence, does it? But, if I believe I know what is x, and I believe I know where is x; I have found x, haven’t I?

The very basic nature of this elusive little crossed alphabet makes me think otherwise. Do I seek to know? Do I ponder over a question and seek an answer? Then, I haven’t found x as yet. I don’t think I ever can. I am always going to have another question. I love the question mark a bit too much. Are we, collectively, ever going to find x? Unknowingly, finding x is a daily, recurring, non terminating mission. You want to know something every day; you try to find x every day.

Till we lose the question mark, we will never find x. It is all pervading and always evading. X, the ever popular representation of the unknown, is what gives us purpose. Just imagine a day without feeling the need to know something. And that is why finding x is a global and eternal quest. We are always going to want to know. We are always going to ask. We are always going to find x, aren’t we?

A character's complaint to its creator

If a character was to speak and complain to his creator, what would he choose to complain about? Ron Weasley, from the Harry Potter series speaks to J.K. Rowling about how he thinks he is the least valued character. Disclaimer: I appreciate Ron Weasley and his role in the series; this is just a wild figment of my imagination!

Ron Weasley: Hermoine is the smart one; Neville is the clumsy one who suddenly grows up; Luna is the eccentric one; Harry is well, Harry. And I am what? The guy who always leaves? 

J. K. Rowling: Of course not, Ron! You are the one who always returns.

Ron: Don’t you give me Harry’s line again! I have heard it far too many times.

Rowling: Oh don’t you forget, I was the one who gave it to Harry in the first place. And I think you are unnecessarily complaining.

Ron: Okay, if this isn’t required, then tell me one thing the readers and the Magical community is going to know me for.

Rowling: If you insist, then here goes. You are the one who provided stability and moral support to Harry throughout his rather bumpy life. You stood by him and believed in him and his stories when no one else did.

Ron: Then why did you make me leave him during the Triwizard Tournament?

Rowling: Be reasonable! I needed to ensure that Harry is as unprepared as possible when he faces those dragons. How was I going to account for Sirius not being able to communicate with him?

Ron: So you make me the bad guy?! And what about the time we were looking for Hocruxes?

Rowling: You were influenced by the locket at that time, Ron. You tried to come back but by then these people had already left.

Ron: Fine! Then tell me, what was I good at? What was my place in the group?

Rowling: You were the guy who provided us with some wit and humour. Your emotional range was always some good fun! You were also the person who provided these two Muggle-borns with some background.

Ron: Which any library could have told them!

Rowling: You don’t get it Ron! Your job was to show that at the end of the day, you were humans! That, despite all that you faced and endured, it was still possible to find humour, to feel jealous, to be normal!

Ron: Anyone could have done that! Why me?

Rowling: Okay, do you want to know your tangible contributions to the cause? Here you go then. You ensured that they won the chess game back in part one.

Ron: Okay…

Rowling: You were the one who saved Harry from the Dursleys during that summer break where he would have starved otherwise. You were the one who understood the Parselmouth connection the second year. You stood by Harry when he learnt about Sirius, at the cost of your dear rat.

Ron: I was obviously going to choose Harry over Pettigrew!

Rowling: See that is the point! For all your complains about being the guy who left, you were the one who, unflinchingly, always choose Harry. In the fifth year you were the one who supported and facilitated Dumbledore’s Army and the one who believed in his dream.

Ron: Which killed Sirius!

Rowling: Now don’t you also take blame for that! Harry holding himself accountable was hard enough to write.

Ron: Well it was hard enough for him to endure, more than for you to write it! Anyway, coming back to the point, am I not the guy who could most easily be replaced by someone else?

Rowling: Don’t you forget how you supported Harry when Hermoine was bulldozing him to give up on the Prince’s copy of the Potions book. And remember the times when you were the only sane voice Harry had with Hermoine’s ideas? I am sure you haven’t forgotten SPEW!

Ron: Oh! I never will!

Rowling: And your most recent contributions during the Battle of Hogwarts! You were the one who remembered the house elves and it was your idea to re-enter the Chamber of Secrets for the basilisk venom!

Ron: Okay, let me rephrase my stand. Name one thing that people will remember me for. One distinct, distinguishing factor.

Rowling: Your wit and loyalty!

Ron: Okay, even if I do admit that I was known for being someone other than the person who always needed a good meal, why was I portrayed by such a forgettable character in the movies?

Rowling: Oh that. A little bit of fun does no one any harm now, does it?!