I'm a chess mom

 Table no. 12. Final round. Ahmedabad. Under-7 National Chess Championship, 2022. 

The sky was as blue as it should have been. The wind cooled the sweat beads on anxious foreheads. The sun had chosen to go a little easy on us. The outside environment was supportive and stood by us.

Nothing worked for me within. Meditation, prayers, reading, writing, talking to my husband or a friend. Nothing helped to ease the trepidation of a mother's heart whose son was playing the second most important match of his life. 

Life. I paused at that. Wasn't he born just yesterday? Here, he was fighting for a win. All of seven. A mere seven-year-old who was standing for the past one hour and giving his opponent a tough fight over the chess board. Sitting was not an option. His height barely reached up to table no. 12. 

Table. no.12. A position where if he won, he would escalate to the top six players of India, and if his stars favored him, he would represent India at the Asian U-7 Championship. That table no. 12 kept giving me jitters. Like this nervous morning, the previous night, too, was full of shuffling sides and checking time. He had lost the first match of the tournament but went on to win the rest of the games till today, the final day when success would or would not reveal her face to him. 

Two hours into the game and he had not yet walked out. Many parents like us waited with bated breath for their walking-talking trophies to come out. I was none other. Though the son played chess, I knew nothing beyond the spelling of chess. C-H-E-S-S. That was it. The husband was the active partner here. Dealing with his class schedule, managing his tournament timings, discussing his moves with his coach, and similar tasks were duly performed by him. Whereas my role was to make him study whenever his chess schedule allowed, plan his meals, and take him to parks for recreation. I don't think, I deserved to be called a chess mom, then.

Back to the table.12 and Ahmedabad. Waiting in the tournament hall, I recollected his win at Odisha. A lifetime memory of him standing among the top 12 players of the country and being felicitated by the Indian Olympiad Chess Coach, Mr. Pravin Thipsay sir. Maybe, this memory could cool me down. Help me relax. His happy face after breakfast this morning, the sprint in his leg as he jumped two stairs at a time, to reach the venue, his kissing and saying, 'Dont worry mamma, I will make it to the Asian games', none of these lessened an inch of weight that weighed me down.

I shut my eyes. But my mind continued to play dodgeball between if and if not. 

That was when the husband shook me. I opened my eyes to see my little master walking out with a broad smile on his face. On seeing him, I ran and hugged him. Before, I could say, 'Congratulations, my boy, you did it!' he announced, 

'Mamma, I lost!'

Silence. I couldn't hear anything. Silence deafened me. Expectations killed me. 

I continued to stay in his embrace. I needed it more than him. He had enjoyed his game and was already planning to go back to the hotel and call his coach. I felt limbless. No feet to stand strong on the grounds of reality. Fate had been unfair to a small boy who knew nothing of competition. Hadn't I promised myself while watching those two pink lines that I would never push this life into a competition?

No Jee. No Neet. No CAT. Nothing if he didn't want to. He could just stay my son all his life. 

And what was I doing? 

That night I asked him if he felt the pressure of playing chess and his mature answer surprised me.

'Mamma, I love the game as much as I love you guys. Will you still take me to tournaments even if I don't win?'

That night, a new dawn rose for me. I would take him to tournaments irrespective of the results. Soon, we will complete a year of that loss, but we will continue to play, till the time he enjoys his game because that is how he enjoys his life!