I want to succeed.
So do most chess players I know. But “success” can mean different things:
- Winning games
- Winning tournaments
- Gaining rating
- Playing beautiful chess
From what I’ve seen, most professionals are focused on the first and third: winning games and gaining rating. And between the two, gaining rating wins — almost every time.
So what do we do?
We chase it.
We stress over it.
We tie our identity to it.
But almost every wise player, coach, or book says the same thing:
Detach from the result. Focus on the process.
From the Bhagavad Gita:
“Karmanye vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana,
Ma Karmaphalaheturbhurma Te Sangostvakarmani“
(Bhagavad Gita, 2.47)
Translation:
“You have the right to perform your actions, but not to the fruits of those actions. Never be attached to the results, and never let yourself be inactive.”
But does this actually work?
My First National Championship Win
It started in an airport lounge in Saudi Arabia — Riyadh, I think. I had a long layover on my way back to India from Europe. I’d just wrapped up a string of tournaments — around eight — and my performance was average. I was still stuck at 2480, a rating I’d hovered around for four years.
Bored and tired, I stumbled across a ChessBase India interview: Arjun and Gukesh, tied for first at the National Seniors. That video sparked something in me. A quiet fire lit up.
“I want to win the Nationals. I want to be a National Champion.”
That became my singular goal — also because it would qualify me for the World Cup.
But the start was rocky. Two tough wins, followed by a couple of draws. I wasn’t anywhere near the top.
By Round 7, I started letting go. Not of ambition, but of the need to control the outcome.
I still wanted to win — but I stopped obsessing over it.
Meanwhile, others led the tournament — GM Sethuraman, GM Abhijeet Gupta, GM Koustav Chatterjee.
Then things shifted.
I beat Abhijeet in Round 9, in a crazy game where I got lucky. Then I won against Koustav in Round 10.
There was drama in the final round. But somehow, with a little luck, I won the tournament.
Looking back — the moment I let go, things began to align.
Was it luck? Yes.
Was it detachment? Maybe.
Either way, I won.
My Second National Win
This time, I was seeded fourth or fifth. On paper, one of the favorites. But it didn’t feel that way. I’d had a terrible year, losing rating in almost every tournament. My confidence was low. And the usual fear of playing in India crept in.
“Playing in India is self-burial,” some say.
So I entered with low expectations. And honestly, that helped.
I started well. Two draws against strong players in the middle rounds — but GM Surya Sekhar Ganguly was on fire. I think he won seven straight games.
At that point, I accepted he might win.
Still, I wanted to stay in the race.
I won Round 10 and closed the gap between us to half a point. I hoped to be paired against him in the last round. If I beat him, I’d likely win the title. Plus, I’d get White, which I wanted.
But instead, I got Mitrabha, with Black.
Frustrating.
He’s strong, solid, and difficult to beat — not the opponent you want when chasing a title.
Before the game, my mindset was simple:
- I didn’t check tiebreaks. It felt unnecessary.
- I decided to play for a win — but not force it.
- If I’m meant to win, I’ll win. If not, I’ll accept it.
Somehow, I won. The tiebreaks favored me.
National Champion — again.
So… Does Detachment Work?
Sometimes.
It helped me in both tournaments. Not total detachment from long-term goals, but from short-term obsession. A kind of surrender:
“I’ll play my best, and let’s see what happens.”
But let’s not romanticize it too much.
The Real Test Comes When You’re Losing
When you’re winning, any mindset works.
You could eat junk, skip prep, meditate — everything clicks.
But when you’re failing? That’s when your framework is truly tested.
Back to my first Nationals — I got lucky against Abhijeet. The position was wild. I created chances, sure — but honestly, I should’ve lost.
If I had?
Game over. No win. No title.
And likely, I would’ve questioned the detachment itself.
That’s the point.
Frameworks are fragile in the face of failure.
Summary of My Observations on Detachment
- When you’re too focused on results, things almost never go your way. It’s that simple.
- Complete detachment isn’t realistic, at least not for me. But a light touch — just enough space from the outcome — works.
- The mindset that helped was:
“I’ll just play my game. If things go well — and I deserve it — I’ll win.” - It’s crucial to train your mind to handle failure. Because when you’re failing, even gold starts to look like bronze.
- If you’re not prepared, failure will shake your entire belief system. You start doubting your methods, your mindset — even yourself.
- And then, without realizing it, you fall back into the same loop of attachment, chasing results, needing validation, breaking down when it doesn’t come.
Final Thought
Detachment doesn’t mean you stop caring — it means you don’t let the outcome control you.
Play freely. Fail without breaking. Care deeply, but don’t cling.
That balance is hard.
But in that space — between effort and outcome — real growth begins.
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