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Time of India
2 days ago
- General
- Time of India
How a Kerala village beat alcoholism with the game of chess
Marottichal, Kerala – Half a century ago, this forest-fringed village in northern Kerala was best known for something far less noble than strategy and sportsmanship: bootleg liquor and backdoor gambling dens. Today, it holds an Asian record for the highest number of people playing chess simultaneously. The transformation wasn't driven by policy, policing, or public shame—but by a quiet revolution on a chequered board, started by a teenager with a fascination for Bobby Fischer. Back in the 1970s, C. Unnikrishnan, now fondly known as 'Chess Maaman,' was just 16 when he discovered the American grandmaster. Hooked instantly, he travelled to nearby towns to learn the Indian precursor chaturanga and modern chess. Years later, he returned to his hometown, which was then drowning in alcoholism, to open a modest teashop. But it wasn't just cups of chai that Unnikrishnan was serving. He brought with him the board and the game he had grown to love. And as illicit brewing threatened to crush families, he began teaching his customers chess—offering them not just entertainment, but a distraction, a discipline, and ultimately, a lifeline. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like No annual fees for life UnionBank Credit Card Apply Now Undo Read more: Crime index 2025: 10 least safe countries in the world; check full list There was little space to play outdoor sports, as there were rubber plantations all around, Unnikrishnan once explained. But since a chessboard fits anywhere, that became our playground, he added. At the time, the villagers had also formed the Madhya Nirodhana Samiti, a grassroots anti-alcohol movement. With women of the village secretly informing on brewers and gamblers, and Unnikrishnan introducing chess as a replacement high, the change came swiftly and deeply. Today, chess boards form an integral part of this place. The village bus stop isn't bustling with commuters, but spectators watching roadside matches. Drivers play against conductors before their shifts. Shopkeepers challenge customers between sales. On Sunday evenings, Unnikrishnan's home is filled to the brim with neighbours, shoulders brushing, eyes locked on boards scattered across benches, verandas, and floors. Read more: Old-school India: 6 places that are pure vintage vibes A recent local survey revealed that two-thirds of Marottichal's 6,000 residents play chess daily. This renaissance isn't limited to adults. At the local primary school, rows of children huddle over chessboards during recess. Many of them learned the game in under a week and insisted on bringing boards from home to practice. The local association is now pushing for chess to be introduced into the official school curriculum. Despite Kerala's progressive but often contentious liquor policy, villagers here believe they've found their own solution. The village's commitment has even caught the eye of international visitors, from Germany to the United States, keen to experience this grassroots model of reform. If there is any doubt that technology might erase this culture, you will easily get to see a group of teens absorbed in their devices, only to reveal they're locked in online chess battles. In Marottichal, the game isn't over. In fact, it's just getting started.
New York Times
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘Rematch' Recreates a Cultural Touchstone
It is rare that chess grabs the public's attention — most people consider it to be too slow or too arcane to be engaging. But every now and then, the game transcends those obstacles, as it did in 2020, when Netflix released 'The Queen's Gambit,' about a girl genius who rises up to conquer the game of kings. It happens with real chess matches, too. It happened in 1972, when against the backdrop of the Cold War, a match for the world championship was played in Iceland between the American Bobby Fischer and the Russian Boris Spassky. Fischer won. And it happened again in May 1997, when Garry Kasparov, the world chess champion, played a match against a black, six-and-a-half-foot tall, 1,500-pound computer named Deep Blue, developed at IBM. The last event is the subject of another television series, called 'Rematch,' now streaming in Britain on Disney+. (It is not currently streaming in the United States; Disney declined to say when or if it would.) The six-part series walks viewers through what led up to the weeklong match held in midtown Manhattan and the unfolding drama culminating in (spoiler alert) Kasparov's historic loss. Spinning a tale of human drama, corporate skulduggery, double-dealing and even espionage, 'Rematch' also makes several explicit references to the attention that the match received, including by weaving in actual clips from contemporaneous news broadcasts. Though there are some fictional elements in the series, the hype was real. It was not hard to understand. The match pitted man against machine, something right out of science fiction. (In one scene in 'Rematch,' characters joke about naming Deep Blue after sinister robots from 'Alien' or 'Terminator.') Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
The Guardian
14-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Guardian view on the chess boom: how rooks and knights captured the world
Once ignored and marginalised as a niche pursuit for nerds, chess is now primetime TV – on BBC Two, naturally. This week saw the launch of Chess Masters: The End Game in which 12 amateur 'rising stars' – six men and six women – will compete. Not since American Bobby Fischer beat the Soviet grandmaster Boris Spassky (who died last month) at the height of the cold war has there been so much interest in the game. Chess is booming around the world, becoming one of the fastest growing internet games. Rachel Reeves is well known for having been British girls' chess champion, aged 14. The chancellor's favoured opening is the Sicilian Defence, apparently: 'It's quite aggressive,' she has said. A new film Checkmate, produced by Emma Stone, about 2022's alleged cheating scandal involving grandmaster Hans Niemann – he denied all wrongdoing – is in the pipeline. In a sure sign of the game's zeitgeist credentials, chess is the backdrop and central metaphor in Sally Rooney's latest novel Intermezzo. Watching YouTube tutorials during lockdown, the author became fascinated by its 'mathematical elegance'. As chess buffs will recognise, intermezzo (also known as Zwischenzug) is a term for 'an unexpected move that poses a severe threat and forces an immediate response'. Rooney plays her characters like a grandmaster, each chapter alternating perspectives, her lovers advancing and retreating in a series of surprising and risky moves. If anyone can sell chess to gen Z it's Rooney. Many young people discovered the game online during Covid. Post-pandemic chess club memberships soared. This surge was boosted by the unexpected success of the 2020 Netflix miniseries The Queen's Gambit, based on a little‑known 1983 US novel by Walter Tevis, set during the cold war, about an orphaned girl who finds stardom as a chess prodigy. The show, on which the former world champion Garry Kasparov was a consultant, was praised for its accuracy. Sales of chess boards rocketed and girls were inspired to take up this male-dominated pastime. With its unbendable framework, unique vocabulary and history, chess is one of the oldest games in the world. It is also one of the most beautiful. There are more possible games of chess than there are atoms in the universe. And its reach has been truly global. As the Guardian journalist Stephen Moss writes in his book The Rookie, chess is 'a very good barometer of power'. When countries rise so does their game, with India (where the game is believed to have originated) and China becoming leading chess nations in recent decades. Far from posing an existential threat, as was widely feared, computers and AI have given the game a new lease of life. As with reading, chess is inexpensive, you can do it anywhere and you can lose yourself in it for hours. For many, the board's 64 squares are where they can belong, and chess communities somewhere they can thrive. No wonder it is so popular. This isn't the first time the BBC has taken on bishops and rooks. Capitalising on the Fischer‑Spassky fever, The Master Game, which ran between 1975 and 1983, was a quietly thrilling show in which players provided commentary (recorded later) on their match. It remains to be seen if Chess Masters can succeed in making the game riveting TV. If it persuades more people, young and old, to play it will be a winner.
Yahoo
28-02-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
Boris Spassky, who lost famed chess match to Bobby Fischer, dies at 88
Boris Spassky, a Soviet-era world chess champion who lost his title to American Bobby Fischer in a legendary 1972 match that became a proxy for Cold War rivalries, died Thursday in Moscow. He was 88. His death was confirmed by the International Chess Federation, the game's governing body. No cause was given. Spassky was "one of the greatest players of all time," the group said on social media. He "left an indelible mark on the game." The Chess Federation of Russia called his death a "great loss to the country," saying generations of chess players had learned from his matches. One of the first to react was Soviet grandmaster Anatoly Karpov, who told TASS state news agency: "He was always one of my main idols." Spassky is best remembered for his duel with American Bobby Fischer in 1972, which was emblematic of the confrontation between East and West. The duel became known as the "match of the century." The Soviet chess giant lived a checkered life, flitting between top-level clashes against the best players of the era and periods of virtual disappearance. Born in 1937 in Leningrad, now Saint Petersburg, Spassky showed prodigious talent early, becoming junior world champion and the youngest grandmaster in history at the time at 18. He said he learned to play chess at the age of five in an orphanage, having managed to flee Leningrad with his family when it was besieged by the Nazis during World War II. After the war, his aggressive style of play without fear of sacrifice was noticed by his peers and encouraged by the state, which provided him with a scholarship and a coach. Having made a strong impression, he found himself in the shadow of another rising figure in Soviet chess, Mikhail Tal, the so-called "Magician of Riga". It was not until 1961 that Spassky made a remarkable comeback by winning the USSR Championship. Eight years later he defeated his compatriot Tigran Petrosian to take the world title. "I never set myself the goal of becoming world champion. Everything worked out by itself. I was progressing in leaps and bounds," Spassky said in 2016. Yugoslav grandmaster Svetozar Gligoric said that Spassky's secret strength "lay in his colossal skill in adapting himself to the different styles of his opponents," the Washington Post reported. "Colossal responsibility" But Spassky would keep his title for just three years. In 1972 in Iceland he played the match that would define his career, against the American prodigy Fischer. With the Cold War at its height and the Soviet Union having dominated the game for years, Spassky faced a must-win situation in his match-up with the eccentric 29-year-old, who openly criticised Soviet chess players. But after a comfortable start for Spassky, the American roared back to win, ending an unbroken streak of Soviet world champions since 1948. Although the loss was a slap in the face for Moscow, for Spassky it was a relief to be rid of a "colossal responsibility." "You can't imagine how relieved I was when Fischer took the title away from me. I freed myself from a very heavy burden and breathed freely," he said nearly four decades later. The iconic Cold War duel has been the subject of numerous books, documentaries and films. Most notably it inspired the Walter Tevis novel "The Queen's Gambit," which was adapted into the acclaimed Netflix series in 2020. But at the time, in the wake of his defeat, Spassky fell out of favour. Four years later, in 1976, he moved to France, after marrying a Frenchwoman of Russian origin. He obtained French citizenship in 1978. Spassky did not return to the public sphere for years, until he played an unofficial rematch against Fischer in Yugoslavia in 1992. The last years of his life were marked by ill health and a mysterious family conflict. After two strokes, he returned to Russia in 2012 with the help of a sponsor and against the advice of his wife and sister. "I have to start over from scratch, but I'm not afraid," Spassky said on Russian television after his return. A few years earlier, in 2008, he had visited the grave of his former rival Fischer, who died that year and was buried in a small cemetery in Iceland. "Do you think that the neighboring spot is available?" Spassky asked journalists accompanying him on the visit. Spassky lived in Moscow and his relatives informed the chess federation of his death, its executive director Alexander Tkachev told RIA Novosti news agency. The Associated Press contributed to this report. Sneak peek: The People v. Kouri Richins California neighborhood is slowly sliding toward the ocean Old-Fashioned Beef Stew
