Can chess change the way you think?
Sridhar has been a copywriter for over 30 years. Words have always been his thing. But recently, he stumbled upon a new dictionary. He discovered it not in a library, but on a chessboard. He wanted to share it with us in the form of a poem. He shares how chess has slowly become a part of his everyday language. In the way he thinks, feels, and learns, not just in moves. This beautiful poem will make you realise that it's never too late to fall in love with something new.
Found a new dictionary
Words are my thing. I’ve been a copywriter for over 30 years.
They’ve been my tools, my playground, my profession.
But now I have found a new dictionary.
It's called chess… chess is teaching me a new language.
Berlin used to mean a city I wanted to visit again.
Now, it’s an opening that frustrates me no end —slow, solid, stubborn.
I’ve started thinking like the Berlin.
Be patient. Don’t overextend. Hold your centre.
Wayward Queen sounds like a wild novel I’d pitch for a brand film.
But in chess, it’s a reckless move.
A lesson in what happens when ego moves too fast.
I’ve seen that in life too.
And sometimes, painfully, in myself.
Sacrifice a rook meant nothing to me once.
Now it feels almost poetic.
Giving up something big, for a position you believe will win in the long run.
That word — sacrifice — hits deeper now. In life. In work. In relationships.
Even blunder, a word I’ve probably edited out of countless scripts, now feels... forgiving.
It doesn’t mean failure anymore.
It just means: “Not this time. Try again.”
And then there’s the slang. I love the slang.
Op — overpowering
GGs — good games, an acknowledgment at the end of a game. A lovely sign off of respect.
Stockfish — the brutally honest friend you didn’t ask for,
but secretly needed.
I didn’t expect this.
Not after three decades of writing lines,
of being the one with the words.
But here I am — a student again.
Watching chess like people watch cricket.
Refreshing Norway Chess scores.
Screaming at the screen during a Title Tuesday flag.
In awe of what the young Indian GMs are doing —
Pragg, Arjun, Gukesh, Vaishali…
They make it look easy. It’s not.
Freestyle Chess?
That shook me.
No opening prep. No patterns. Just pure instinct.
Watching Carlsen and the rest think from scratch —
it felt like watching thought in real time.
Like watching jazz. Or poetry.
I find myself absorbing all of it.
The tension. The emotion. The silence.
I pause games midway to take notes —
not on the moves,
but on how this feels.
Chess has made me sharper, yes.
But also softer.
More open.
More okay with being a beginner.
With losing. With trying again.
Somehow, this game —
with 64 squares and a few pieces —
has found its way into the language I live by.
Turns out, I wasn’t just learning a game.
I was remembering what it feels like to learn again.