The game of the Gods - A Paolo Maurensig and Mir Malik Tribute
PREFACE
You are about to read a wonderful tale, which seems like a Kipling's novel, but is actually a true story, with some poetic license.
The authorship belongs to the literary genius of Paolo Maurensig, an Italian writer born in Gorizia - Friuli Venezia Giulia on 03/26/1943 and died in Udine on 05/29/2021 at the age of 78.
My only contribution is to have summarized and translated the novel, which was published in a limited edition, only in Italian, in 2019.
I have already summarized another novel by Paolo Maurensig in a previous article:
This story is intended to pay solemn homage to Malik Mir Sultan Khan, better known as Mir Malik (1903-1966), an extraordinary man and a shining star in the world of chess.
This man first gave prestige to the Indian chess tradition in the West and throughout the World. Little or nothing was known about him, except for the transcripts of games played in Europe between 1929 and 1933.
The reportage of a journalist, Morgan La Motta, who was in India in 1965 because of the war India - Pakistan, helped to prevent a story that deserved to be remembered and celebrated from falling into oblivion.
Enjoy the reading!
DocSimooo
THE GAME OF THE GODS
A Paolo Maurensig and Mir Malik Tribute
The ancient chaturanga, the war game conceived in India in the mists of time, has a magical and sacred character. Spreading from Persia to Europe and then throughout the world, the game has changed but continues to exert a magnetism that is supernatural.
In modern times it is called chess, but it is actually the game of the Gods.
Little Malik was so proud! He had recently been appointed "carnac" of the village. Keeper of the elephants! They had three, enormous creatures, tame, proud and intelligent.
His job was to look after them, bring them food and keep them clean, freeing them from the annoying parasites that burrow into the folds of their skin, which is tough, but in some places also extremely vulnerable.
Young Malik with his mother elefant.
He devoted himself to his work with great passion. Malik was loved in turn by the elephants, who were protective of him, so small, as if he were a member of the herd.
Often, at night, he would sneak out of the house, which was on the edge of the village, to sleep on the straw next to his mother elephant, Suchita, and then return home at dawn, without being seen, so as not to anger and worry his parents.
It all began with that terrible nightmare. He had dreamed of a huge tiger that appeared before him while, like a thousand other times, he was walking the short distance home. He woke up dripping with sweat, as realistic as the dream had been.
A few days later, the encounter with the tiger actually took place, in broad daylight, in the clearing of tall grass near the waterhole where the elephants loved to drink and play by splashing each other with water.
He clearly felt that he was being watched from behind. The observer was hidden in the tall grass no more than 10 meters away.
The fierce tiger.
He resisted the temptation to run away and instead turned to stare at the tiger as adults had taught him to do. He was trembling and paralyzed with fear. He prayed to all the Gods to be blessed with an immediate death, feeling no pain.
Nevertheless the tiger, coming out of the grass, hesitated. She looked at him annoyed and then went away.
He had not noticed, but Suchita was behind him to protect him and, shortly after, she let out a powerful roar to warn the tiger from coming back in the future.
According to an ancient legend, man and tiger were originally brothers, each with his own qualities: the tiger had strength and the man had intellect. For this reason, there has been mutual respect between the two species for so long.
When a tiger is spotted near a village, it is considered a good omen. Offerings and prayers are made to the Goddess Parvati so that the tiger will spare the villagers, especially the children, contenting itself with choosing from the domestic animals only what is necessary to feed it, after which it is invited to continue its journey. And the tiger usually, in memory of that ancient bond with humans, shows itself benevolent, unless it is attacked with the intent to capture it or, worse, kill it.
But that did not look like a real tiger, but a demonic emanation, a murderous beast, incarnation of the bloodthirsty goddess Kali with a long protruding tongue, black as burnt leather, the lascivious dancer, with six tentacle-like arms, a necklace of skulls and loincloth of human bones.
The Goddes Kali.
The tiger would have ravaged the village of little Malik for more than a year, decimating it.
Soon after, the first disappearances and family deaths began. Women, children, elderly people.
Hunting trips were organized, in which the bravest men took part, but they were torn to pieces. Against the tiger they could do little with their rusty muskets.
Malik's parents were also killed by the tiger in two separate ambushes and their bodies were never found despite searches.
During the funeral ceremony they could only burn their clothes and a few personal objects on the pyre.
So the village elders decided to ask for help from their master, Maharaja Sir Omar Khan.
Sir Omar Khan was the greatest landowner in the whole of Punjab. He had great wealth, was proud, but kind-hearted. Capable of great acts of generosity, but harsh with mean people and merciless with enemies.
His arrival in the village was welcomed as a blessing. He came accompanied by a trusted friend, an English Gentleman, who would participate in the tiger hunt.
Once the tall grass was cut, a military camp was set up. Before the hunting trip, the Maharaja granted an audience to the population, one representative per family, to understand their needs and fulfill their wishes. In front of his tent, a line of people of all ages, each with their own complaints.
Even little Malik was received. He had lost what was more dear to him. Only his grandfather remained, now very, very old and almost incapable of taking care of him.
"What do you want, son?"
"I want to see that tiger demon defeated once and for all!"
"This is everyone's wish. Tell me your wish."
"I would like to take my grandfather to a hospital, so he can be treated."
"Ok my son, this is your wish, but the course of nature cannot be changed. The leaf that no longer has sap is necessarily destined to fall from the branch."
Little Malik's eyes filled with tears.
Like the good genie of the lamp, the Maharaja
asked him to make a third wish.
The Genie of the Lamp.
"I would like to learn the chaturanga thoroughly!"
The prince didn't bat an eye, but in his heart of hearts he smiled.
"I will be happy to grant your wish, but you will have to prove to me that you are worthy of it."
He took his beautiful ivory chessboard. They formulated the ritual prayer together and began to play."
Little Malik had learned the rituals and rules of the game from his father and had fallen in love with it. He even had a chessboard with pieces carved by his father himself, a precious treasure and his only memory of his lost family.
The game took them to another dimension.
The precious chessboard.
Hours passed, evening came and outside the tent the people in line lit torches and formed bivouacs waiting their turn. In the meantime the master at the chessboard appeared more and more at the mercy of his servant.
It was the tiger's roar that saved him from defeat. The prince jumped up and ran to organize the hunt.
The hunt was accurate and involved considerable forces, but ended in failure. The tiger was neither killed nor captured, but it never returned to the village.
The lord remained in the village long enough to listen and fulfill everyone's wishes, then he left.
Little Malik thought he had been forgotten.
Shortly afterward, instead, he received a visit from an emissary of the prince, who took him to his palace.
It was an act of great compassion.
Years passed.
Malik served in the palace and was always at the orders of his lord, but his situation had improved dramatically. He could not believe it. From the dust of a humble bamboo and clay hut to a princely court.
The noble palace of the Maharaja.
Three times a week he attended the chaturanga matches between his master and Kishanlal Sarda, who had been several times champion of Punjab. He was allowed to watch.
Games had their own etiquette. There was no time constraint. However, it was not polite to annoy the opponent by waiting too long, nor was it acceptable to offend him by immediately responding to his move. It was necessary to be able to appreciate every nuance of it before responding.
One day he was asked for his opinion on how to continue the game. He was surprised. Games are never interrupted unless absolutely necessary.
He replied immediately: who had the move could save himself only by leading the elephant into attack.
The elephant and the other pieces of chaturanga.
Kishanlal Sarda seemed satisfied and continued the game following his advice.
At the end of the meeting, Kishanlal informed him of the prince's intention to make him know the game in depth, both the eastern and western ones. His chess training was finally beginning.
He began to attend his lessons, which very often took place even in the absence of the chessboard, and were sometimes reflections on life and human nature.
You couldn’t become a good player if chaturanga remained just a game. It was actually a philosophical teaching. It formed the character of young people, teaching them arts and crafts, religiosity, social norms. It taught them to be patient, to divide their time into sowing, careful care and harvest.
To achieve results, the player had to change, to transform himself through study until he could access a reality different from that perceivable by the five senses.
The master then began to explain the Western rules as well, comparing them with the traditional ones.
There were some very refined ones, such as castling, which gave the king an additional chance to protect himself, or even checkmate, which was a less bloody way of winning, capturing the enemy King without committing regicide.
"Why does my master care so much that I know how to play the European way?"
"Sir Umar Khan has great plans for you," replied the teacher.
Shortly after he took part in the Delhi Championship, the most important Indian national tournament, in which the game was played with the old rules. He won the tournament with impressive ease.
"Remember!" Sir Omar Khan told him visibly satisfied at the end of the tournament, "When you learn to know thoroughly the chaturanga and the threads that connect the earthly and celestial chessboards, you will finally know yourself and you will then be able to predict the outcome of any battle."
Then the Prince announced that he would take him to England to participate in the British Chess Championship.
The Maharaja's relationship with the English colonizers was ambivalent. His pride made it difficult for him to tolerate being their subordinate, but he had excellent diplomatic skills.
Although he possessed enormous wealth and belonged to the noblest Indian caste, in the eyes of the English he remained an Indian, judged with a hint of contempt because of the color of his skin. An ally, but still of an inferior class.
<<If I cannot be their equal then I will calmly show that I am superior>> was the thought of Sir Omar Khan.
He invited politicians, diplomats, members of the upper middle class and the English nobility to a sumptuous dinner organized in his palace.
The most exquisite dishes were served at the table, the place was extremely elegant. It was likely that the English were surprised by such luxury in an Indian residence. Malik served at the table discreetly, in silence and could listen to the conversations.
The prince, a man of great culture (he had also graduated from Cambridge), pointed out how the Indo-European root was the basis of all modern European languages and that India was the cradle of all culture.
Mother Tongue: the Indo-European language family.
Even in games, India excelled. In the West, these were generally frivolous and empty, very often based on the randomness of dice or the random distribution of cards. In India, however, games had much nobler origins, and nobler aspirations too…
"Let us take chess, for example, which is played by both our peoples: it derives from the Indian chaturanga, which is the origin of all board games."
Krsna, the supreme deity (Bhagavad) e Radha, his cowherd wife, playing chaturanga together.
Talking about chess for the English was like pressing a finger on a raw nerve. In fact, apart from a few exceptions, there were not many notable players in Great Britain, nor a consolidated tradition, despite the widespread passion for the game.
Sigmund Tarrash, the German father of chess, was of the same opinion.
Howard Staunton, who lived a century earlier, remained the only cornerstone of the entire history of British chess, but he was an arrogant and vindictive character, incapable of accepting defeat and recognizing the merits of others.
Howard Staunton was nevertheless soundly beaten by Anderssen at the first European International Tournament, losing the title of absolute champion that he had self-attributed. Then, making up excuses of all kinds, he always refused to accept the challenge of the great Paul Morphy, the strongest player in the New World, who landed in Europe precisely to challenge him. Paul Morphy won against everyone in Europe, even against Anderssen (link).
Paul Morphy could indeed be considered the first unofficial World Champion!
"Well, I am sure that the least of the servants of this palace, a young man who can neither read nor write, could defeat all your so-called champions," said Sir Omar Khan.
Major Frank Buchanan of His Majesty George V's army issued the challenge: "If he were ever accepted into a tournament as important as the British Chess Championship, the boy would be annihilated by the European chess champions. It is so obvious that I would bet anything on it."
"Betting, you say? All right. I bet that my servant will be a piece of cake to win the British Chess Championship. He also has the right to participate in the tournament as a subject of His Majesty George V and as a winner of the Indian national tournament...
...How much do you weigh, Major?"
"Pardon?"
"How much do you weigh?"
"About two hundred pounds (90 kilograms)" replied the major, who still could not understand that strange question.
"Good! I bet two hundred pounds of gold on my servant's victory," said Sir Umar Khan.
Major Buchanan paled. "If I had two hundred pounds of gold, you need not doubt that I would be ready to accept the challenge. But I do not have your wealth."
"Certainly not," replied the Maharaja. "But a penny from you is enough for me, against your weight in gold."
On the penny, however, the Major was supposed to inscribe the words "next time, before I judge an Indian again, I will bite my tongue" and sign his name.
"There are things more important than money and honor is one of them!" said the Maharaja.
On 03/15/1929, young Malik left with his master for Europe by ship, following the spice trade route.
Sir Omar Khan had a first-class suite, Malik and the other servants a modest third-class cabin. Kishanlal Sarda was also with them as a coach and translator for the young chess talent.
Spice trade route.
The other servants of the Maharaja were very envious of Malik, who enjoyed privileges for being a good chess player. At the first opportunity, out of sight of their master, they beat him ruthless.
When Sir Omar Khan, seeing him with a black eye and a loose incisor, asked him what had happened, he replied that he had fallen down the stairs.
But the Maharaja was too shrewd not to see the truth. So Malik was given his own cabin on a higher floor and the other servants remained housed in the hold.
Fifteen days of travel were an eternity. Time never passed and, when there was a long wave, you suffered a bit from seasickness, but it was a unique experience.
Malik had never traveled. The longest journey he had made was to Delhi on a bullock cart.
Indian bullock cart.
As a child, he dreamed of traveling the world every time the train passed by his village. Its long whistle could be heard for miles.
It was a memory that gave him a pleasant nostalgia. For children and young people, the train was not only the means of transport par excellence, but a real source of entertainment.
They used to wait for it at a point where they knew that, because of a uphill, the old locomotive would slow down to a walking pace. There they attacked.
From the thick forest that grew on either side of the track, dozens of them emerged, climbing onto the running boards, holding on to the handles, climbing up onto the roofs of the carriages, and with each successive slowdown, more children joined in, until the last rusty edge of the train was carpeted with the cheering bodies of children.
Childhood memories of Malik.
When the guards arrived, they all ran away.
Now, around the world Malik was really going.
The departure for England to take part in the European Tournaments had been widely announced, so the Indian delegation found a crowd of journalists upon arrival for the official interviews.
Everyone was very curious about the young Indian, who was praised as a very strong chess player.
He was a British subject, but he couldn't speak English, only Hindi, and apparently could neither read nor write. It seemed incredible to them that he had never opened a book on chess.
Unfortunately, the cold British climate, the stress of the media spotlight and fatigue took their toll right from the beginning. He had feverish attacks so severe that they had to hospitalize him. They diagnosed malaria and Malik had to take huge doses of quinine to recover.
When Malik finally got out of the hospital, he was ready to start his chess challenges.
The first tournament he entered was the British Chess Championship in 1929. He won again easily. Mir Malik was the new champion of the whole British Empire!
1929 - British Chess Championship Award Ceremony
It must be said, however, that neither Frederick Yates nor Sir George Thomas, the two strongest English players of the time, took part in the tournament.
Out of fear or snobbery?
The mistrust and pride of the English had prevailed. The prospect of losing to a humble Indian belonging to the Shudra caste, the caste of servants, after which came only the last, the Untouchables, just didn't appeal to them.
However, the bet with the Army Major was won, and the Maharaja's gold was safe 😆
At the 1930 Liege Tournament in Belgium, Malik finished second, behind Tartakover, but ahead of the greats Aaron Nimzowitsch, Frank James Marshall and Rubinstein.
Frederick Yates, who would later become his friend (he was also in poor health), patiently taught him to correctly record the moves on the scoreboard, using English notation.
Malik was not used to the Western clothes that suffocated him, nor to the shoes that were so tight and he considered a real torture, nor to sitting on chairs for long periods.
He felt much more comfortable sitting with his legs crossed on the floor.
He often forgot to press the clock button, thus arriving at the end of the game with almost no time left, forced to move quickly and with the risk of making mistakes in choosing the move.
Furthermore, writing down chess notations (mandatory, under penalty of disqualification) stole his concentration.
Not to mention castling, which does not exist in chaturanga. So he often left the King in the center of the board, maneuvering from the sides. However, this often disoriented the opponents.
What distressed him most was the absolute loss of sacredness of the game. In India there was silence, the two opponents remained motionless in a hieratic position, almost in meditation and above all they respected each other.
In Europe, everything happened. Players fidgeted in their seats, stood up, yawned, coughed, smoked, drank whiskey, ate ham sandwiches, burped, stared at their opponents to make them uncomfortable. They made noise on purpose to disturb their concentration...etc.
Alas the attitude towards him was sometimes contemptuous, almost racist. Some blew the smoke of pestilential cigars in his face, others looked at him with ill-concealed disdain.
His father had taught him that a match must be faced on equal terms, that disturbing one's concentration was equivalent to cheating, and therefore a victory obtained by unfair means remained something unworthy, a stain on one's honor that should weigh on one's conscience much more than a defeat.
All things considered, in those years he achieved extraordinary results in the chess field.
1930-31 Hastings Tournament - photo taken during the match Mir Malik Sultan Khan vs R.P. Michell
In 1930-31 at the Hastings Tournament he came third, behind Max Euwe, the future World Champion, and Jose Raul Capablanca, a former World Champion, whom he however beated in the direct clash.
Capablanca was a true gentleman, elegant, polite and respectful. He acknowledged defeat with great dignity and shook hands with the young Indian talent with affection.
This victory was met with great resonance.
In 1931 during Prague Olympiads he fought against Aleksandr Alechin, the Chess World Champion and had a remarkable draw.
In 1932 a lot of events:
Mir Malik took part in the London "Sunday Referee" Tournament: featured four other players from Hastings - Flohr, Kashdan, Sir George Thomas and Vera Menchik (1906-1944), Czech naturalizer British, who was several times Women's World Champion with the addition of Alexander Alekhine (France), Savielly Tartakower (Polish with French citizenship) and the illustrious Géza Maróczy (Hungarian).
Alekhine won 9/11, followed by Flohr at 8 and Kashdan and Mir Malik Sultan Khan that tied the third place at 7½.
Here a beatiful photo with Vera Menchik on the left, Alexander Alehkine on the right - both seated at the same side of the table, Géza Maróczy and Sultan Khan on the other side.
Still in 1932 Mir Malik won the British Chess Championship for the second time.
1932 British Chess Championship - photo of the match Mir Malik Sultan Khan vs T.H. Taylor in the first round.
Again in 1932 Mir Malik came fourth in the Bern Tournament, behind Alekhine, Euwe and Flohr.
In the direct match against Alechin Malik lost. He never managed to beat him. His results were impressive anyway.
Mir Malik had entered the TOP TEN of the best players in the world.
But something had gone out inside him, he had never managed to settle into the greyness of London. He complained of great homesickness and nostalgia for his deceased parents.
In 1933 he won the British Chess Championship for the third and last time, then stopped playing.
Mir Malik Sultan Khan with the British Chess trophy.
However, Sir Omar Khan seemed to have other plans for him.
These were years of great political tension, preceding the Second World War. The great non-violent revolution in India had already been underway for years, which would soon lead (in 1947) to India's independence from British rule.
Gandhi leading his followers on the Salt March to abolish the British Salt laws - 1930
One day Sir Omar Khan confided in him that he was not in good health and had to go away for treatment. As soon as he was well they would resume chess tournaments together.
Actually, as we will see, this would never happen again.
He handed him a handful of gold sovereigns, which Malik hid inside the seam of his trouser belt, and entrusted him to the care of his great English friend, a very important person, with enormous political responsibilities, whose name cannot be revealed.
A man with a grumpy character, but good and generous, "the white hunter" who had accompanied the Maharaja on tiger hunting trips during Malik's childhood.
A man of imposing size. No longer young. He walked with a cane. His age was certainly at the time over 60.
He loved to smoke cigars and was not at all averse to alcohol, which, however, never negatively affected his judgment.
Photo of the mysterious Gentleman.
The Gentleman needed someone to take care of his country residence which we will call "Florence Hall".
The butler, who we will call Mr. Charles, was now elderly and no longer able to manage the mansion alone.
So Mir Malik did not return to his homeland as claimed in some biographical notes on his life.
It was a rather monotonous period. He spent the war years there.
German troops marching through Warsaw, the newly conquered capital of Poland.
The villa was uninhabited. Only the service staff was present to take care of small maintenance and daily cleaning of the rooms.
He learned to drive (he was to act as the Gentleman's chauffeur if he returned), the rudiments of mechanic's work (to keep the Gentleman's Rolls Royce in perfect working order), gardening and the impeccable etiquette of English butlers, instructed by his elderly superior.
One spring day, after a very long absence, the English Gentleman returned. Not before having had one of the largest rooms in the residence very carefully set up for work activities. He was accompanied by a dozen of illustrious guests, all in military uniform, from various allied nations.
In the centre of the work room there was an enormous model, a planisphere, with miniature models of warriors lined up with their costumes, but also ancient war machines, elephants, boats, horses, up to the cannons, tanks and planes of the most recent era.
There were thousands of them. Never seen anything like it. It looked like the war of armies described in the sacred Hindu text "Mahābhārata".
Seeing the generals move the armies on the model was just like watching the progress of a gigantic game with the "armies of the four elements" of chaturanga.
What difference could there be between the infantry of an army and the ranks of pawns? And between tanks and Towers? And between light artillery and Horses?
And even though instead of squares there were open spaces, mountains and rivers, hills and ravines, it was still a chessboard.
Meanwhile, London was being systematically bombed.
The bombing of London.
One day the gentleman introduced Mir Malik to the soldiers present, while he was there serving drinks.
"Malik Mir Sultan Khan is a formidable chess player, three times British champion and a deep connoisseur of chaturanga, the oldest war game in the world.
My friend Sir Omar Khan often tells me that those who know chaturanga well can predict the outcome of any battle."
This statement was greeted with a loud laugh.
One of the generals, irritated, in defiance asked the young Malik to give them concrete proof.
How did he interpret the battle scenario that was right before his eyes in the model?
Without hesitation Mir Malik provided the requested answer:
"One of the two armies would have to retreat, leaving the field free, consisting mostly of marshy land, capable of blocking all heavy vehicles. Whoever first retreated strategically, would have had victory in his grasp."
This prediction was taken with a grain of salt, but when after a few days Radio London confirmed his predictions in detail, Mir Malik suddenly entered the circle of war strategists.
Radio London - transmission and reception.
It is impressive to think that behind all those strategies planned at the table (Operation Ikarus, Operation Barbarossa...) there were real people with their lives and their families. A sea of blood, millions and millions of victims!
Malik was consulted only in certain situations, when reaching a decision was difficult for everyone.
He would turn off his mind and simply let himself be guided by the atman (his deepest self) as if it were a revelation.
The right response came by itself, as suggested by the Gods.
The point is that this "revelation" did not always occur. Furthermore, among the military war strategists, there was a spy who was playing a double game. But the Gentleman knew it and acted accordingly.
At the crucial point of the conflict – the expected landing of Allied troops in Europe, transported by amphibious vehicles – Malik was asked where the invasion should take place.
No matter how hard he tried, he felt only emptiness and silence, as if it were the unanimous denial of the Gods. The answer did not come.
So, finally, he gave his opinion, even though he knew he wasn't sure of the answer.
He pointed to Calais.
The double agent Monsieur Dupré, a Belgian secret agent of the enemy forces, having obtained the information, made an excuse, left the strategic room and went away.
The Gentleman managed to get this false news into the enemy ranks.
It was June 5, 1944, the day before the landing, which actually took place in Normandy.
The D-Day Landings.
The surprise effect of the Normandy landings played a decisive role in opening a gap in the German front that changed the fate of the war. Shortly thereafter, Florence Hall was razed to the ground by the Germans.
Mir Malik woke up with his head bandaged in a hospital bed.
It was time to leave. He had no one left to protect him. The entire world was a battlefield, even though the war was now coming to an end.
He discovered that the generous prince who he owed everything to, Sir Malik Umar Hayat Khan, was dead. He had left him a piece of land in Punjab, but one person was not enough to work it. Moreover, India was a powder keg waiting to explode. Tensions with the English colonizers were at their peak.
Where to go?
He decided to embark again. With part of the money he had received from the Maharaja, he boarded a Norwegian whaling ship that, after three months of sailing, stopped in New York.
New York - late 40's.
Life in the New World was not easy at all.
After many difficulties, Malik began working as a taxi driver. The shifts were harsh, but he was always diligent in his duties and little by little he earned the respect of his boss, a fellow countryman.
Among his strengths were his excellent knowledge of English, which almost none of his fellow countrymen in the New York taxi monopoly had, and his mechanical skills. The skills he had acquired at "Florence Hall" were therefore very useful.
Taxi driver in New York.
Another significant event that marked his life occurred right in New York.
One very hot summer day, while riding in a taxi through the city streets, he saw a blind old lady wearing elegant sunglasses, waving her cane in search of a ride.
The temptation to pass by was great. In fact, older people are usually not inclined to give tips and are generally very demanding.
But his conscience troubled him and he stopped. It was really very hot and there was no one on the street that day.
The lady had a fragile appearance, but was very well-groomed, elegant, and appeared overall self-confident and very assertive. She asked to be accompanied to "The Plaza".
During the trip they had a pleasant conversation. She told him that her second husband, a surgeon connected to a humanitarian organization, had worked for a long time in India. She had accompanied him and remained in India until her husband’s premature death.
Once they arrived, the old lady gave him a generous tip and asked for his personal details so she could contact him again if needed.
In the days that followed, Malik discovered that he had accompanied to the hotel one of the richest women in the United States of America, Mrs. Abbott, a steel magnate.
A few weeks later the lady contacted him again and asked him to be her driver for a few days.
They toured all her properties in New Jersey. They visited her childhood home. It was a touching experience. You could feel the nostalgia for times gone by.
At the end of all those rounds the old lady asked him to remain in her service.
Could it be that his mission in that life was to serve and obey? First Maharaja Sir Malik Umar Hayat Khan, then the English Gentleman, not to mention the Gods, who had maneuvered him to direct the fate of the war. Now the old lady.
Malik, however, gladly accepted.
Let his destiny be fulfilled! He finally felt at ease next to her.
The old lady lived in a beautiful apartment with a veranda, a large terrace and a roof garden overlooking Central Park.
It was an Indian garden full of different species. There were small streams crossed by wooden bridges, fountains, pools with water lilies and golden fish; spaces covered with very fine sand and smooth rocks. Along the path, among ferns and mosses, there were places of meditation and votive temples dedicated to Hindu deities.
Maharani's roof garden
The old lady was very wise. Probably her long journey of inner spiritual maturation had come to an end. A journey that Malik, instead, had just begun. Perhaps this is why Karma had made them meet.
Every day, for two hours, the lady taught him school. She taught him to read and write in English, trained him in correct diction with many readings. Then they studied together in depth the contents of the books read.
Malik stayed with her for seven years, until her death at the age of 88. He affectionately called her "Maharani", great Mother. It was a mutual platonic love.
To be honest, she did much more for him than him for her.
He cooked for her, tidied up the house and tended the garden.
They kept each other company. But she was like a second mother to him.
Sometimes he felt the desire to play again, so he once decided to show up at the Manhattan Club but he didn't introduce himself.
He was not recognized and was rejected. It was a very exclusive club and he did not have a letter of recommendation.
Given his shy nature he never tried again.
When he wanted to play chess he went to Washington Square Park, where it was not difficult to find an opponent. Ordinary people sharing their passion with joy.
That was his dimension.
Washington Square Park - New York
He naturally taught the game to his beloved Maharani, who demonstrated excellent skills as a player, especially considering her poor eyesight and the fact that she was learning the game at a very advanced age.
When "Maharani" died, there was an incredible outcry. Malik was accused of having plagiarized her. He found himself left with the Rolls Royce, a monthly allowance, and the lifelong usufruct of the apartment in downtown New York, where he had already been living for years.
The old lady's children fought him.
But everything was in order according to the Law and the prejudices of the "right-thinking" people should soon have quitted down.
Malik preferred to renounce the usufruct, sold the Rolls and returned to India to take care of the land bequeathed to him by his first benefactor, the Maharaja.
Sir Omar Khan, when he was alive, had planned a marriage for his Malik.
The girl, named Dayita, of the same caste, was a year younger than him. She could read, write and was well educated. She also knew how to play chess.
After her marriage, she too would have entered into service in the house of Sir Umar Khan. But unfortunately she died before they could meet. She drowned, swept away by the river in flood that hit her village.
Back in Punjab, Malik eventually married a mature woman who already had children, precisely to give them a better future. Then he fell ill with tuberculosis and decided to move to a Combonian mission, where he received care and attention until his death, which occurred on April 25, 1966, at the age of 61.
It was during those years that he received a visit from the reporter who this story is owed to. Although far from everything and everyone, Malik kept himself updated with newspaper clippings.
He had heard about the young American Bobby Fischer, a real talent. He had no doubts. Too strong! He would soon become the new World Champion. He would have bet!
Any idea who he is?
Although his worries were different... war with Pakistan was about to break out and his health was seriously compromised... his only regret was that FIDE did not consider him worthy of the title of Grandmaster.
He was convinced that this had happened for a great purpose... Life wanted to teach him the importance of remaining humble, even if you are gifted with great talent.
Many years later, after his death, justice has been done.
On Friday, February 2, 2024, the legendary chess player Malik Mir Sultan Khan (1903-1966) was posthumously awarded the honorary Grandmaster title.
Malik certainly now rests in peace.
Malik Mir Sultan Khan, known by the honorific attributes of Mir Malik, was born in Mittha Tawana, Punjab in 1905 (the day and month of birth are not certain) and died in Sargodha, Punjab on 25 April 1966.
He was an Indian-born Pakistani chess player, considered the greatest Asian chess player of his time.
He demonstrated incredible talent and it is a shame that so little was known about his life.
With a little imagination, the biographical black holes in his life were filled.
It was done with love.
Only what is told about his chess life is completely true.
An important clarification regarding the GM title granted to him in 2024:
according to FIDE rules, the title of Grandmaster cannot be awarded posthumously to persons who died before 1950, the year in which FIDE began awarding the title of GM.
But GM title can be awarded even posthumously to great players who were still alive when FIDE began awarding the title in 1950.
Sultan Khan was "forgotten" when he was still alive because of many reasons:
He stopped playing in the early 1930s;
Then the Second World War broke out and, last but not least...
He came back home and nothing more was heard of him.
It is not true that FIDE overlooked him. FIDE officials probably did not realize that he was still alive in 1950. He could be dead like the other great champion of his time (Aleksandr Alechin, Jose Raul Capablanca, Frank Marshall, Vera Menchik, Aaron Nimzowitsch...) who in fact do not have the posthumous title of GM.
Of course, if they had known, they would have awarded him the title earlier because his merit is more than evident.
This story was in his honor.
Paolo Maurensig (Gorizia, 03/26/1943 - Udine, 05/26/2021) was a great writer and a passionate chess player.
He came to writing after working in publishing. He was also a politician, councilor for culture in the municipality of Udine in Italy, where he later died.
Paolo Maurensig
Success came in 1993 with the publication of his first novel, 'The Luneburg Variation', a wonderful book which, using as its central theme a chess match between two masters of the game, talks about the events of the Second World War and the Holocaust.
If you follow my blogs you already know about his other novel, 'L'ottava traversa' which I already wrote to you about.
In 2016 Paolo Maurensig won the Cortina d’Ampezzo Prize with the novel ‘Teoria delle ombre’ which talks about the great Alekhine. It is worth reading and I will certainly talk about it in a new article.
Not all of his novels are about chess.
His novel about music, ‘Canone inverso’, published in 1996, which I haven’t read yet, was also very popular. A movie was made about this novel in Italy.
But this very short list does not honor him. He wrote many other beautiful books.
I remember a gothic novel 'Vukovlad, the Lord of the Wolves' and a nice essay entitled 'Golf and the Art of Orienting Oneself with the Nose'.
He was a kind and friendly person, always sober in telling about himself and his knowledge. Married to Sonia, that he loved very much and who certainly inspired him to write his novels.
His way of reading the world was fascinating and original.
He died at the age of 78.
If he get into heaven, he was certainly welcomed by Mir Malik with a smile and a hug.
Hope you enjoyed the reading.
See you soon
DocSimooo
