Silent Moves
- Correspondent
- 4 hours ago
- 2 min read
R. Praggnanandhaa’s stunning victory at the Norway Chess tournament is more than just another glittering addition to India’s growing collection of chess triumphs. It is a reminder that excellence in Indian sport often flourishes far from cricketing floodlights.
By becoming the first Indian ever to win the prestigious Norway Chess tournament, the 20-year-old grandmaster achieved something that had eluded even the great Viswanathan Anand. He did so in emphatic fashion after recovering from a poor start, winning four classical games in succession, defeating some of the world’s finest players and twice overcoming Magnus Carlsen, the Norwegian titan, on his home turf. Few victories in Indian sport this year can match its difficulty or significance.
Contrast this with a cricketer struck a match-winning six in a key IPL playoff. Television studios would have erupted and advertising campaigns would have flowed while social media would have convulsed into celebration. Praggnanandhaa’s conquest of one of the strongest chess tournaments in the world has received wholesome admiration, but has little of the national frenzy reserved for cricket’s carnival.
This is not an argument against the IPL. The league is a remarkable commercial success that has transformed cricketing economics. The problem is that India’s sporting imagination has become dangerously parochial. In a nation of 1.4 billion people, too much attention, money and airtime is still lavished on a single game.
Chess offers a revealing contrast. India today is experiencing a golden age that would have seemed fanciful a generation ago. Anand opened the door and a remarkable cohort has marched through it. D. Gukesh became the youngest world champion. Arjun Erigaisi has entered the game’s elite ranks and now, Praggnanandhaa continues to challenge the very best. Among women, Koneru Humpy and Divya Deshmukh have kept India among the world’s strongest chess nations.
And yet these champions, while certainly lauded, remain curiously under-celebrated as opposed to cricket stars. The same phenomenon, to a lesser or greater degree, can be observed in athletics, shooting and table tennis. Athletes often labour for years with modest sponsorship, uncertain funding and limited public recognition. They become household names only during Olympic cycles, before slipping once more into relative obscurity. Their success is celebrated episodically.
Chess rewards patience over spectacle and intellect over celebrity. Its heroes spend countless hours studying openings, analysing positions and enduring lonely defeats. The game’s virtues are not television-friendly. Chess players do not command billion-dollar broadcasting deals but rely on sheer talent and an extraordinary capacity for concentration.
India’s recent chess renaissance reflects something encouraging about modern India. It demonstrates that world-class achievement can emerge from coaching networks, digital learning and institutional persistence rather than from lavish leagues alone.
Praggnanandhaa’s victory in Oslo is far more than a personal milestone. It is evidence that India can dominate global arenas beyond cricket. The country need not love cricket less. But it ought to learn to celebrate other forms of greatness more.



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