Table of Contents

To Save the King 2

Prayers 6
My Wife and Three of our Children 8

The Pandemonium of the Arabian Kingdom 11

The De Facto Prison 13

 To Save the King
His Mom taught Chinmay chess when he was 7 years old. One day after school, she sat
him down with a book that she had bought from a train vendor. And she told
Chinmay,” Akku, (that was his pet name) in a game of chess, a pawn is worth one point,
the knight and bishop are worth three points each, the rook is worth five and the queen,
nine. The queen is a very important piece in the game, so be very careful how you use
your queen.”

And Chinmay's first question was,” What about the king, though?”

His mother, Sheetal, replied, “The king has infinite points. That is the first lesson I want
you to learn in chess. You lose the king, you lose the game. Which means you do
whatever you have to do to save the king.”

Then from the book, she taught him some bizarre techniques, which flew right over the
8-year-old boy’s head. Nevertheless, this growing up, playing chess, became a ritual in
their house. As Chinmay grew up, he picked a word called ‘feminism’. And his first
reaction to the word was that it’s absolutely unnecessary. Because, in his head, he
thought,” Why do I need a separate word to tell me that people cannot be treated
differently based on their gender?”

But once he got over that fact, he thanked God that at least it didn’t happen in his own
household. He thanked God that everyone is treated equally. However, once you notice
a word, you start noticing things around it. Over time, he started noticing that Sheetal
would wake up first, and was the last one to go to sleep. When there were three pieces of
fruit at home, it always came to his brother, his father and himself….Mom was never
hungry.

Chicken on Sundays was a ritual at home, but when on Monday the leftovers were
there, the pieces came to the three men, and the gravy went to her. Each of the brothers,
and their father, had their own passion, hobbies and interests, but Sheetal, she was just
Mom. 

So next day, at breakfast, Chinmay walks into the timeworn kitchen, to ‘educate’ her
about feminism. That day, Chinmay sat down beside his mother and he said,” Mom, we
all have our passions, interests and hobbies, you can’t just be Mom, you should do
something as well. You taught me chess, how about chess be your passion? You should
go play a tournament”

And Mom being Mom gave Chinmay his tiffin and sent him off to school. In Chinmay’s
mind, that was the end of that. But a couple of months later, Chinmay walked in for
breakfast and Sheetal said,” Akku, I thought about what you said, so I participated in
this tiny little tournament in my office. And now there’s a slight problem!”

Chinmay worriedly asked,” What is it? Did you lose? Are you okay?”

Sheetal replied,” No….So I kind of won that, and then they urged me to go for the
district level tournament, and the district was happening right next door, so I thought,
why not? So I skipped the office one day and went for the district level tournament.
Turns out I am good at the game because I qualified for the state level. Now the state
level was an hour away so I said, ’Why not?’ and took the bus and went for the state-level
tournament. Long story short, the nationals are in Jaipur. Therefore, this is where I am
retiring from chess because I can’t talk to your Dad about this. He would never let me
go”

Chinmay, ambitious and proud at the moment, said,” We will make this happen. We’ll
talk to him as a team.”

After telling his Dad the whole story, Chinmay says,” Dad, Mom wants to go to Jaipur.”

And without a second of hesitation, not even looking up from the newspaper, his Dad
flat-out said, “No, you can’t go.”

Chinmay, at this moment, had a brain wave and suggested that they could all go as a
family for the summer vacations to Jaipur.

Somehow, that suggestion had more value in the household than Sheetal’s passion. 

The good thing though, was that they went to Jaipur and Sheetal played her first
national tournament. After coming back, Chinmay realized that something had
changed in his mother. She had this new passion, instead of one chess book, there were
now five chess books at home. Suddenly there was a chess clock in their house. Sheetal
practiced for hours each day and got better each time. Come the next nationals, she
qualifies again! This time they were being held in Nainital. His mother’s words still
resonate in Chinmay’s heart,” I have always found Nainital a beautiful place. I am so
excited to go.”

Again, the conversation with his Dad took place, and again the answer was ‘no’.

In vain did Sheetal urge her husband to let her go. She told her husband,” Just this once,
I am really passionate about the game. Just this once, can I please go? And I’ll never play
chess again.”

He said,” The kids’ exams are going on. How can you even think about going for a chess
tournament right now?” So that was the last time Sheetal ever played chess.

Another thing Chinmay noticed was that his mother had been refusing a promotion in
her office for a long time since accepting it would mean that she would have to go out of
town to work. Nevertheless, Chinmay urged her to at least inform his Dad about it
once. So Sheetal went to her husband one day and said,” Listen, I have thrice been
selected for promotion in my office, but promotion would mean being posted
somewhere else. I just wanted to inform you. Don’t worry; I am not going to accept it. I
know the three of you would not be able to survive here without me.” And in that line,
Chinmay saw his Dad finally raise his head out of the newspaper, because his giant male
ego was bruised.

 He says,” Why do you think we won’t be able to survive without you? If you really want
to go, you go.” One week later, Sheetal was out of the house, on her way to Mumbai.

Now the three fully-grown incapable men were left helpless. Breakfast, lunch or dinner,
it was just oats. If a sock fell on the floor, it stayed on the floor. If they fell ill, they had to
visit an actual doctor. And so it took Chinmay’s Dad 4 years of agony and innumerable
boxes of oats to finally admit that he could not do this alone. The tone, although he said
it, surprised Chinmay. He picked up the phone and told Sheetal,” Enough is enough.
You are coming back.” 

And no questions asked Sheetal came back. At that time Chinmay realized that his
father was the King of the chessboard, and his Mom would do whatever she had to, to
save him.

As Chinmay grew, he became a celebrated chess player, and there was one particular
technique using which he won many games. It was called Queen’s gambit, wherein one
strategically sacrifices the queen, to win the game.
His Mom taught Chinmay chess when he was 7 years old. She told him that a pawn is
worth one point, the knight and bishop are worth three points each, the rook is worth
five and the queen, nine. But the king has infinite points, because if you lose the king,
you lose the game. So you do whatever you have to do, but you save your king.

The thing is, sometimes to win a game of chess, there is no option but to sacrifice the
Queen. But, what I wonder about is, why is it always so necessary to win?

So let us all reflect on the importance of the King, the Queen and the value of winning.
Let us all, together, strive to make society a place where equality reigns.
 Prayers
Thoughts on the actions of Man

When the sun rests for the night

And the moon becomes a source of light
Werewolves howl
Praying for mercy,
Praying for control

When the sun rests for the night

And stars shimmer bright
Crickets stridulate
Praying to catch prey,
Praying not to become the prey

When the sun rests for the night

And the traffic is tight
Man comes home
Praying to get what he has not,
Praying to safeguard what he does

Then the moon rests for the day

And animals and birds, all pray
The Almighty blesses them all
With what they pray
For what they pray
But he refuses to answer man’s call.

Man crossed boundaries

Man took life
Man cut down trees
He certainly did not apologise
And thus his prayers had no effect
His greed being the only defect.
 My Wife and Three of our Children
Plight of Kadima Kabenge,a mine worker who fled attacks in Kasai Province

I worked day and night,

Waiting for the sufferings to subside
Slaving in the mine shaft,
To provide
For my wife and our three children

Descending
Several metres underground
Uncertain to see daylight again
Or return to
My wife and our three children

(That cobalt is tainted

With the blood of this man
Who slaved in the mineshaft
To protect
His wife and their three children)

Once, I cut my finger

Another time I crushed my foot
But I slaved in that mineshaft
To tend
For my wife and our three children

Misfortune struck again

More armed men arrived
They threatened to kill
So for the first time I slaved
For the armed men, that night

In the morning they were gone

And returned the same night
They beat me, and I endured it
To save
My wife and our three children

(But every man has his breaking point

And Kadima had reached his
He started giving up hope
He was simply unable to cope)

There were girls to in those shaft

As young as my little Chéckine
It pains me to recall
The atrocities committe’
And so I forbade wandering about
Of my wife and our three children

(Kadima was offered a job

In a nearby village
He set off in February
And returned in March
Having earned enough to buy that mine shaft)

For a week we lived satisfied

I was happy
To have returned to, protected, provided and tended
For my wife and our three children

Then life took a turn, the doomsday

The 15th of March
Armed men killed my wife
and three of our children
I don’t know why.

(Kadima Kabenge was able to survive those attacks, and was soon aided by the UNHCR
task force. But such was the mental trauma that he subsequently committed suicide)

An illustration drawn from the perspective of

Chéckine, daughter of Kadima Kabenge (Illustration credits:
Vaanika Kumar)
 The Pandemonium of the Arabian Kingdom
The extremities faced by women

This poem is inspired by real-life incidents as described by Rahaf Mohammed during an

interview. She managed to flee from her abusive family in Saudi Arabia and has since
worked to empower women in similar situations.

I have lived in this draconian system

For far too long
I should have gotten away
When I really had the chance
I overcame everything that was meant to destroy me
But for how long, must I go on?

(He beat me
He violated me
I never got a say
That man always got his way)

I wonder 
Will I ever get away?
From this place, that has hurt me in every way
I think to myself
I overcame everything that was meant to destroy me
But was it all for nothing?

(I didn’t have a passport

Not even a means of transport
I couldn’t call ‘him’ by name
But for me it’s all the same)

Oh did I forget to mention

I am familiar with some theoretical inventions
But once ‘he’ found out
I didn’t even try to shout
I overcame everything that was meant to destroy me
The bruises and scars are testimony

(Then came the opportunity

This was my path to immunity
I told myself, “If not me, who
If not now, when”)

All I wanted was freedom

To once, take my own way
So I fled from the pandemonium
I became the heroine of my life, not the victim
I overcame everything that was meant to destroy me
And naturally, I shall help all the others after me.
 The De Facto Prison
The recipe for an actual prison in a third world country

Ingredients:
● Some untrained guards
● Some inmates
● Dust, disease and neglect at discretion
● Some rusted prison bars
● Old, weak bricks
● A prison blueprint from the 19th century
● A pinch of pretended concern
● Part-time psychologists
● Untraversable landscape
● Smugglers according to taste

Preparation:
➔ The first step is to combine the blueprint, the bricks and some bars. The more
uncomfortable the cells, the better the taste of our dish.
➔ Now place the racist inmates with the black ones, the migrants with the bullies
and the LGBTQ+ with conservatives. Variety enhances the texture.
➔ It’s the smugglers turn. Spreading them evenly is key to a distinguished
experience.
➔ Dip the whole preparation in an untraversable landscape, so the inmates slowly
dissolve in loneliness. Absence of communication would facilitate this process.
➔ Now garnish this with an abundance of dirt, disease and neglect, and use some
pretended concern to make the dish imperceptible.
 ➔ Mixing part-time psychologists would make the dish presentable, but it would
taste more original without them. This ingredient should be added after proper
consideration of funds and the attention the dish would get at a global level.
➔ The dish is to be served with a side of guards, but the ratio of guards to dish must
be very low. Untrained guards are more desirable, but lazy ones would work just
fine, too.
➔ Care should be taken to maintain the best environment for the dish, as this
would be instrumental in the final effect. These conditions include
non-functional sanitation, overcrowding, assaults and discrimination.

Good luck with preparing the perfect dish, chefs!