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KavitaChhibber.com proudly showcases articles written by some of our most talented and creative youth. We encourage young minds to add their voice to this section. Please contact Kavita to have your work considered for online publication. Please click on an article or scroll downwards to read more.
The Young Writers column this month is sponsored by Dario Irizarry (pictured right) who believes in the Kenyan proverb that says “We do not inherit our world from our ancestors. It is lent to us by our children and their future children.” Dario is Puerto Rican, and currently works for the social security administration, in Birmingham, Alabama. He loves everything Indian, especially Indian music. Dario went to India last year, and says he “is still under the spell of that marvelous land.” Kavita Chhibber thanks Dario Irizarry for his generosity.
By Gautam Narula Friday, April 8th, 2005, was a somewhat cold, drizzly and dreary morning. The weather matched my mood. At about 6:45, my dad and I hopped in the car and started heading to Nashville, Tennessee. Though I bore a bored and sleepy, if not somewhat grumpy face, my heart was pounding inside. I was heading for my very first national chess tournament. It would be attended by thousands of people. What would it be like? I imagined a huge tournament hall, with rows of players and clocks. Outside the door would be anxious friends, teammates, parents and coaches waiting to see if all the hard work and training would finally pay off. I was a bit nervous because I knew there were many people who study and prepare for this event, all the time, and I’m involved in so many other things that I haven’t had the time to do the same thing. The event was being held at the magnificent Gaylord Hotel in Opryland. We made good time and arrived about 1 and ½ hours early. My dad insisted I rest but I was too anxious. The tournament room, looked like a big warehouse with many chess boards. “Would the parents and coaches please leave the playing area, so we may begin.” blared a tournament director on a megaphone. Many parents however refused to leave. “Could the tournament directors please “escort” (meaning drag out) the parents please.” The same thing kept happening over and over again. Parents can be so much like disobedient kids sometimes! My first opponent was a boy named William Land. He was older than me, and probably better, I thought. We had to wait almost 2 hours before the round started. The boy sitting next to me told me he was confident he was going to win. I nodded and smiled faintly. He lost. I much to my surprise, won both my first two rounds easily We then went to a lecture by Grandmaster Yasser Seirwan, who was the first American contender for the world title since Bobby Fischer. He gave a very interesting lecture. In it he said that he didn’t like the fact that people in the US think of chess as a nerdy, geeky game, when some of the coolest people he knew were chess players. The next day was one I'll never forget. It was time for the third round, and I was against George Woodbury III. I sat at the table, still excited about yesterday's victories. My opponent was big and looked like he would love to watch a little kid cry as he beat him in chess. He took his seat, we waited about 10 minutes, and we began. After about 20-25 moves, I was up a few pawns*, and had a better position. “I'm going to win this. I'll already have 3. Maybe, just maybe, I might get a trophy. That would be awesome.” I was starting to relax a little. Just then, I made a mistake. He pinned my bishop**, and all my thoughts of a victory disappeared. “No, no, no, it's not supposed to be this way. I'm supposed to win. I'm better than him!!” For a brief moment I was angry at myself, and at my opponent, who had a slight smirk on his face. Then tears started to well up in my eyes. “I'm going to lose. I'm going to lose. How could I think I was any good I'm not any good, I'm a patzer.” I have learned from experience as well from my chess coach that if I let my emotions get the better of me, I'll ruin any chance of winning. Though inside I was feeling bad, outside I pretended to look thoughtful, as if I still had a chance of winning. Finally, in a 4 move calculation, I won a knight*** back. It looked like an exchange, but my opponents smirk quickly disappeared as he saw that he couldn't take back my piece, otherwise, his king would be in check .(In chess you cannot move your king into check****) It was then a positional endgame***** phase, where I was feeling a little more confident. Then, I set a trap. In the position, it looked like I was going to lose a pawn, but after a few moves he was forced to resign. I couldn't believe it. I had won a lost game. The reason why my opponent lost was that he relaxed, and you must always remain alert especially when you don’t know your opponent’s game. I played my next round against a kid named Edgar Sierra. Until now, I still hadn't developed a unique style of playing, but I realize that I’m essentially an aggressive, but positional player. In that game, it was the first time I utilized zwichenzug, a quiet move in the attack which makes it unstoppable. In all my games save for my third round, I had been sacrificing pieces and busting open the kingside****** for aggressive attacks. In this game, I did a quiet move that seemed harmless, yet was unstoppable. He burrowed his head in his hand and looked upset. “Wherever I move,” he murmured, “is mate.” He looked upset but played the game out until the end. Both my dad and I were thrilled. We had only expected to win 3 or 4 but already I was 4 & 0.. My dad calculated and said if I win 5 rounds I may win a trophy. (This is due to a tie break system in which if there are two or more people who win the same amount of rounds and qualify for a prize, they take whoever played the best opponents and factor that in. There was a lot of pressure on me to win my next game. We went to another lecture by Grandmaster Maurice Ashley. I think he is one of the few black grandmasters and a witty and funny speaker, He was an inspiration for me and for many chess players, I’m sure. My next game was against a kid called Mario Luke. I was very sure I was going to lose this round. He too had a 4-0 winning record. I felt nervous inside, though I'm pretty sure my dad was under more pressure than me. Sometimes it makes me wonder if people should go through such torment. If the chess player wins, they are very happy, but if they lose, they feel no self worth. They feel inadequate as human beings just because they lost game and at that time it’s not enough to say-oh it was only a game. I played aggressively and won easily. My dad and I were so excited. I was going to get a trophy. I could hardly believe it! I would advance to the 6th round with a guaranteed trophy. The next day was full of tension. Kids who knew they didn't do well can take it easy, but not I. I still had a potential chance to win the championship. Soon, it was time for the 6th round. I thought I was going to lose, because this was the 6th round. Oh, well, at least I got a trophy.” My opponent was a really nice boy named Joseph Esstman. I didn't want to beat him, but I had to. We played our game. Again, an aggressive kingside attack defeated him. “I didn't play to well,” he said, “but you played well. Congratulations.” He was very sporting about his defeat. But I was happy for him, because he too was also guaranteed a trophy. After that round I relaxed. There was going to be so much stress before the next round so I may as well enjoy myself. My dad and I looked like casual strollers, though inside we were both under so much stress. My dad was probably thinking “He's playing for the championship. What will happen?” The tension was difficult to bear. “I'm scared to lose. If I lose I'll feel disappointed that I was so close and didn't make it.” The tension was mounting. I played some blitz with another kid and won. That made me feel a little more confident. I got into the room, took my seat and thought. “This is it. All I've worked for has come down to this one single game.” My opponent was Marquis Edmondson. He looked bigger than me, and the tension went up a notch. I asked him how long he's been playing. “Seven years.” he replied in a matter-of-fact way. Our game began. He was holding up well. Then my heart jumped. I had found that he had made a mistake. After looking for traps I did a double attack, one on his king and one on his knight. I had won his knight. I had to go to the bathroom and when I walked past my dad I looked at him and grinned. “I'm up a knight.” I said, and then hurried off. After that he made no other mistakes. It had reached the endgame, and I was still up a piece. I sacrificed a piece. He captured it. Then after a sequence of moves, I placed one of my pieces near his king and said, “Checkmate.” Excitement begun to well up in me. I had done it. I was national champion for my section! To my horror, my opponent replied, “That’s not checkmate.” He pushed a pawn forward. “How can this happen? How could I oversee such an obvious thing? I think I just blew a won game.” I was winning, and now it was tied and I was in a slightly worse position. “I’ve got to give it everything I've got.” I thought as I had never thought before. Though the parents were supposed to stay out of the playing area, they were all ready creeping in. They were about 10 feet past the doors, and the noise level had risen significantly. My dad must have been extremely anxious. He was probably thinking, “Why is he taking so long. Is he losing?” I gave it all I had. Then it was all clear. It was 3-5 move sequence. I moved my knight, attacked his queen (the strongest piece). He moved his queen back. Then I moved my knight and gave a check. I was checking him and attacking his rook. He moved his king, and took his rook. I checkmated him about 7 moves later. My dad and I were almost hysterical with joy. We had ordered a commemorative book to remember these moments. I had become national 6th grade unrated champion (there were 2 other kids with perfect scores but they lost on tie breaks.) “I can't believe I pulled that off!” I said. A few hours later, we were in the car. I was sleeping lightly in the front seat and there, lying majestically in the backseat, was a huge trophy. Definitions Gautam Narula is 11 and a 7th grader at Webbridge Middle School in Alpharetta Georgia. Though astronomy is his first love, chess comes a close second. By Rachna Diva Sharma
My name is Rachna Diva Sharma. I am 8 years old. I am going to be in 3rd grade. I am very excited. I can’t wait to go back to the school and work towards my first goal. I want to become a doctor. I want to help people with their health. The problem is that I don’t want to see even one tear come out of their eye. It is very sad but I’ve understood that when I grow older I won’t feel so bad. I’m not saying that I don’t care about them it’s just that I ‘m a little girl now, and when I’m older I won’t be so afraid to give them a shot. And plus, it’s better to get treated earlier than just having to suffer for your whole life. I have another goal which I would like to achieve once I grow up. I would like to be a famous singer. I love singing and I practice all the time. I will take music classes to help me learn better. I can’t wait to sing in front of lots of people. I’ve learned that I have to become a very successful woman. I have to be very good at studies and work hard at my goals. Once I reach my goals, I will make everyone proud of me.
By Shalini Ramchandran
We ride a great train As we pause-- And run. Shalini Ramachandran is an eleventh-grader at Parkview High School who enjoys reading, hanging out with friends, watching television, and playing piano. She has enjoyed writing from a young age, since her first publication about a weird sofa on "KidPub,", an online kids' publishing database. She aspires to become a journalist, humor columnist, and a children's book author. All Material © Copyright Kavita Chhibber and respective authors.
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