Chess at highest level can be excruciating pain

There is some good news for chess lovers: this piece will be my last assault on your beloved game. I've had enough and I hope you also feel the same. Not surprisingly, my tiny brain failed to grasp the nuances of this 'beautiful game' after seven rounds of 'gripping action' in the world championship. If I had tried harder, the ancient game would have lost a master commentator to insanity. There are people who can tell you that they do comprehend the incomprehensible. Trust me; they are being economical with truth.

Even as my inability to see my big toes in standing position warns me of something grave, I wish to point out that the only exercise I indulge in these days is jumping to conclusions.

Thanks to my ignorance, I'm alive and writing this nonsense. If you intend to follow chess seriously, make sure that you are paying your health insurance premium on time. And, scrambled brain and sleepless nights are waiting for you.

Three phases in a game of chess are: opening, middle game and end game.

For me, though, there is only one: confusion. Chess, I'm told, is a wonderful game to play. But it's an awful game to watch. The less said the better about reporting it. If you aren't seriously interested in the number of breaks Carlsen takes in a round, chess at the highest level can be an excruciating pain.

Chess analysts should be banished to Siberia without sweaters or Sahara without sandals, for they are responsible for ruining an uncomplicated game. Budapest Gambit isn't a square in the Hungarian capital. Queen's Gambit Declined isn't something you do when the British monarch sends you an invite for a function in the Buckingham Palace. Neither is London System a manual on England's metro rail network. Scotch Game is hardly a sport to entertain your friends with inside a pub. They are all names given to moves you make at the beginning of a usually boring match.

Garry Kasparov, remember the motormouth who grabbed more attention than Anand and Carlsen during his recent Chennai visit, said the Indian was strong midway through round four. Boris Gelfand, who lost gallantly to Anand in the 2012 world championship no less, said the Indian needed a miracle to survive from the same position. Eventually, both Kasparov and Gelfand were wrong as the game ended in a tie, as Americans call it. Don't tie yourself in a knot.

My total weight, which is considerable, is behind the TV cameraman who wanted to know the result of round seven midway through the post-match press conference on Monday.