Recently I was transferred from Pune to Chennai, and started commuting by suburban train. Now, travel by suburban trains can be extremely boring if you are not interested in striking a conversation with a complete stranger during each trip. And it could be very demanding if you are not lucky enough to get a seat. So like millions of people who face the same plight, I found refuge in the smartphone.
From the thousands of games available in the Google play store, I chose chess, the age-old game. The burden of the song here is not on how I decided to play chess or how good or bad I was in it. It is that I learned of peculiar aspect of my character from the way I played the game on the device. Whenever I was about to lose a game or about to lose an important piece, I quickly pressed the ‘undo’ button and rectified the mistake and carried on playing till I won. Each time I pressed the ‘undo’ button, I had to double the score next time to remain in the game. The flaws in my game were increasing to such an extent that at times I wondered whether my brain was working at all. The more I pressed the ‘undo’ button, the more I became reliant on it. In the end, without ‘undo’ I was not able to finish a single game.
With ‘undo’ I was winning games, raking in points and win percentage. However, deep down I felt there was something lacking, I knew I was winning by some sort of cheating, by using the technical upper hand, by using the button the creators of the game has installed so that people can win and inflate their egos, to win something in their miserable lives where winning is not everyone’s privilege.
“ Only the lessons you learn while walking through the firestorm that is life can teach you not to repeat mistakes: there can be no 'undo' buttons in real life ”
In life also I contemplate my past mistakes; the roads I should have taken, the time I have wasted, the things I should have done, the contacts I should have kept, people and circumstances I should have avoided, imagining the way my life would have panned out had I opted something else, and so on. I was constantly in ‘undo’ mode in my mind — all those routes I took, all those words I should not have used, all those people I should not have met, all those hundreds and thousands of blah-blahs that have landed me here, there or anywhere. Every day, at least for some time, I go through these ‘undo’ sessions in my mind just to make me feel better by visualising myself in a more favourable setting had I chosen that option instead of this, which led me to my current failures. Always without fail, after these sessions I feel even more miserable.
There is no ‘undo’ button in life, the only thing the ‘undo’ button does is to make you feel more insecure, but it knocks down your self-respect. It does not allow you to learn from your mistakes. It does not allow you to move forward in life but drives you to an agonising state of mind where you regret the missed opportunities. All those people you should not have met, all those routes you should not have taken, all those words you should not have spoken, accept it and forgive yourself. Hurt, pain and loss are no enemy of yours but great teachers, if you want to see them like that. Only the lessons you learn while walking through that firestorm can teach you not to commit those mistakes again.
Coming back to my chess game, I have successfully hidden the ‘undo’ option in the game and have reached Level 2 after 80 matches (earlier I was in Level 5), but all those 80 matches I fought fairly. I lost the first 18 matches and won the 19th and it felt good. In life also now I don’t regret any of my wrong moves, I just keep on playing from the current position.
Orhan Pamuk wrote: “I read a book one day and my whole life was changed.” In my case, I played a game one day and my whole life was changed.
rishi.langlitt@gmail.com
