A Teen’s Gambit: Be ‘Praggmatic’

Two remarkable events took place last week. India did what no other country has been able to thus far — land on the South Pole of the moon; and, Rameshbabu Praggnanadhaa did what no other kid could do thus far by becoming the youngest to reach a Chess World Cup final. He is only the second Indian in 21 years to reach the final. Let’s process that without reading it like a mere statistical highlight. Just like India is discovering and curating uncharted territory, this lad from Chennai is conquering the complex cerebral world of chess. At 18, even as youngsters are trying to navigate the perplexing terrains of teenage life, Praggu (as he is fondly called) is wearing down stalwarts much older than him with mathematical and strategic clarity.

Before sitting opposite Praggu, World Number 3 Fabiano Caruana was undefeated in the entire World Cup. The young Indian only had one plan and that was to wait patiently for Caruana to commit an error — even a tiny one. The error came — a small misstep and that is all Praggu needed to attack with technical brilliance and hand his more accomplished opponent a loss after 16 straight wins. A gambit that showcased maturity far beyond his age.

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The boy, who struck stardom on the sidelines of the World Cup, looks to be rather an unassuming champion though. A wispy frame clothed in a formal suit, hair neatly oiled and combed with no flyaway wisps in sight, accompanied by a shy demeanour. None of which correlates to the crafty, shrewd brilliance that’s been on display all these days. Our correlation is flawed, the genius not so much.

We, as an aspirational generation, are always enamoured by the extravagant and the flamboyant. We gravitate towards what we don’t possess and the age-old adage of ‘grass always greener on the other side’, has been subconsciously and unfailingly endorsed. Our mind is conditioned to seeing a fiery disposition being matched with an equally intense exposition. There is some validity to this endorsement. As a sporting nation we took our time to fight as equals and grow out of the shadows of a colonial mindset that had taken roots decades ago.

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So when Sourav Ganguly removed his jersey and twirled it around standing at the hallowed Lord’s balcony in front of a stoic partisan crowd, it was a moment that froze in time. It was the exact antithetical emotion that a country had grappled to express and here was the Indian men’s cricket team captain symbolically spelling it out for the world to see. That chapter was responsible in spawning a generation of sportspersons who wanted to give it back.

Many sportspersons are a product of this thought. A thought that has translated them into zealous, fierce competitors who want to wear their scores on their sleeves. The bat, ball or the racquet alone is not enough to do all the talking. The steely eyes, the sculpted beard, the gnarls, the fist pumps, the chest thumps and the shirt-rips, are all signatures of not triumph alone but skill too — a way of showing ‘I am the better player’. For spectators and fans these become more than assertions of sporting achievements and glory; it’s another episode of defiance of the world order. It resonates with a deep-seated desire of toppling the hierarchy. So it’s only logical now that a quiet, demure teenager with soft eyes would be considered just another boy. It’s confusing to acknowledge this geeky genius to be a champion, a world beater.

In a country that obsesses over swashbuckling cricketers with snazzy haircuts, lucrative contracts and sponsorship deals, Praggu is a refreshing aberration. He is not only a departure from the brand of sass and aggression but is also quite unlike his prolific predecessor — Vishy Anand. While Vishy has immense grit and always gunned for glory, Praggu’s manual is to narrow his vision down to the process. Sure he wants to win but maybe it doesn’t matter if he didn’t. A heady concoction of a saintly exterior with a mind of a shrewd tactician or like Magnus Carlson calls him — ‘mentality monster’.

I want to take you back to when Praggu was up against one of his best friends, Arjun Erigaisi, in the quarterfinals. It was the last tiebreaker with both a win away from a place in the semi-finals, and Praggnanandhaa arrives 30 seconds late! In rapid chess every move is time-bound and he arrives with the clock already ticking away. You should have seen the sense of calmness even after running in late (he said he was in the washroom and did not realise time had lapsed). Praggu is removing his ID card, his blazer, pulling up his sleeves calmly, even as he makes one clinical move after the next, going on to win the battle! A roguish calmness deemed for a champion. His interview later reveals he probably was just as nervy but boy that didn’t show.

Even with this sense of maturity, also seen through the ‘Vibhuti’ (holy ash) that his mum Nagalakshmi diligently applies on his forehead that isn’t wiped off (I remember I would wipe off bits of the vibuthi or kumkum on my forehead till it was an obscure speck), comes that unmistakable essence of the boy in him who would break into an impish smile remembering a school exam that asked him a question on the Chess Olympiad he’d participated in.

And there is every reason to believe that this is the Praggu you will see even years down the line when he will continue to chomp down competition. And that’s not only to do with his humble beginnings but also how grounded he is kept by those close to him. Nagalakshmi travels everywhere with him. If Praggu is barely heard, his mum is barely seen. The stunning photographs captured during the World Cup, proof of just where Praggu gets his seemingly taciturn nature from. She watches her child prodigy from afar in the shadows and smiles with pride every time he gets up, searches for her and walks over to hug what is clearly one of his biggest anchors.

So maybe it’s time we equally embraced this delightful deviation of a champion — who may not be spotted from a distance, probably wouldn’t stand out in a crowd but whose quiet dominance will surely be felt by all. He proves that Gen Z could do with a new poster kid; that not suave and spunk but smart and silent is the new cool.

Rupha Ramani is the Consulting Sports Editor with Firstpost_._ Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely that of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost_’s views._

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