“I can’t believe I’m going to see the chess Grandmaster Ivanchuk play today!” I said with joy. I have always loved playing chess and seeing one of the greatest chess players in real life felt surreal.

I learnt to play chess from my father. Perhaps that was the only time we truly got along. “E4, E5” always sounded like code words only chess players would understand. It was difficult to find friends who enjoyed playing it. Maybe people thought it was a nerd’s game and very boring, but to me, it has always been about strategy.

“If you ever want to know your enemy, invite him to a chess game,” my father always said.

The tournament was supposed to start at noon. I got ready and wore my favourite outfit and left hurriedly left for the venue as I wanted to reach early to get a front-row seat.

It was a gigantic hall, but the silence made it feel smaller. Everyone was extremely careful not to make a sound, afraid it might disturb the players’ thoughts. A hall full of people, yet absolutely no sound, showed how much they respected the game. I quietly squeezed into the front row and there he was, Ivanchuk.

“My father won’t believe I got to see Ivanchuk play,” I thought, smiling as I imagined his reaction.

Ivanchuk sat perfectly still, his hands folded and his eyes fixed on the board, as if calculating every possible move. The game was about to start. The referee signalled and Ivanchuk slid a pawn forward, the simplest move, yet the hall gasped in anticipation of what they were about to witness next.

The game continued. Bishops moved diagonally, and the queen took lives. Pawns were sacrificed to protect the king. With every move, the air grew thick and tense. Every player has to hit the chess clock after making a move, and if they run out of time, no matter how strong their position, they lose. Move, hit the clock and wait. That was the rhythm of the room.

Every tick of the timer reminded us that time was running out for both of them. But I noticed something. Ivanchuk had grown old, not just in age. His hands trembled before each move. His mind still worked like a genius, but his body was slow to follow.

Ivanchuk was about to win. His opponent’s king was trapped, but his hands shook and his movements slowed. The timer beeped.

Ivanchuk was about to checkmate his opponent, but his time ran out. No one moved, as they had just witnessed that time never plays fair. A man who spent all his years mastering every move could not execute them because his time had run out. He had not lost to his opponent, but to youth. He had devoted his youth to conquering the board, but time was the one opponent he could never defeat.

Ivanchuk sat still.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026