There
is a huge countdown clock on the screen, flashing the number of minutes
remaining for the start of the game. Switching the clock on and getting ready
with business, the Arbiters start fussing over the last minute details.
Not exactly scurrying for vantage points, the dozen or so photographers gradually start arriving, taking positions. Whether you are going to snap Anand or Gelfand in particular, you choose your vantage points accordingly.
By International Master V Saravanan
Not exactly scurrying for vantage points, the dozen or so photographers gradually start arriving, taking positions. Whether you are going to snap Anand or Gelfand in particular, you choose your vantage points accordingly.
Whoever designed those glass walls definitely doesn’t
have a clue about photography. Like foldable doors, they obstruct the view of
the stage, and breakup the view into a series of rectangles, not giving a
single plain vision of the players. You can’t have it all, can you?
Boris Gelfand always arrives first. For almost all
the games, he invariably strides to the board early, as early as 10 minutes to
go. He brings with him a whole lot of stuff to get settled – Water, glass, a
cup of coffee (Tea?). Clearly, he has a routine to `settle down’…
It is a somewhat an amusing situation, with photographers slowly crowding around the stage, most standing in the auditorium behind the Glass wall protecting the player from noise from the audience. A couple of privileged ones get onto the stage, being allowed close quarters selectively.
Boris
is all alone to click for a long time to come.
`The Boris’ sits on the board, writes the score
sheet, pours water from the bottle to the glass, and slowly gets into the
groove. He notices all the photographers, but chooses to remain silent. Rarely,
he may give a half smile at a known face, but the `business’ is of course,
serious.
Often, he characteristically folds his lips and
gives a grump like expression. But you do know that he is a nice guy. (So
boring compared to The Vaselin
`I-know-you-I-shake-your-hand-but-I-No-talk-to-you’ Topalov!).
And then, he keeps going to the players’ arena and returning
back to the board randomly, trying to look at the pieces with concentration
when sitting on the chair. Vishy Anand arrives at the board just in time, all
the games. `The Boss’ strides to the board with purpose, with just a couple of
minutes to go.
Vishy gives a small smile to Boris (who returns
it), both shake hand matter-of-factly, and get down to business. Without any
exaggerated `playing out’ for the audience. (Hey! After all, it’s the World
Chess Championship, you have been seeing your rival in your mind for the past
year or so – no need for niceties, after all…) And yes, the Moscow crowd
applauds enthusiastically.
Not looking at the photographers or the arbiters
but obviously aware of their presence, he concentrates on writing the score
sheet, adjust his pieces, and settles down to quietly stare down the board.
By this time, the auditorium is full to its
capacity.
As the count-down clock on the demo board touches
0.00, the Arbiter nods at the players and starts the clock. Unlike between us
the lesser souls often, there is no second handshake as the game starts, as the
business of fighting for the $2.55 million gets underway busily…
As the game starts, the Electronic Demo board on
the background comes to life brilliantly, showing the current position on the
board.
For the first five minutes, the shutterbugs click
away merrily. There is no shoving around as yet, but there is a clever and
silent warfare on getting the right vantage point and sticking to that position,
pretendedly oblivious to the guy behind you wanting a better view. But there is
no real aggression, as most are polite to each other, and understand that
everyone needs to take their snaps.
The Cameras keep clicking / filming away. They come
in various sizes and models. Some of them pros have dangerously huge Zoom
Lenses and covers and caps and what-not’s attached to their devices, scaring
the shit out of me, making me and my DSLR feel decidedly inferior. Are these
monsters going to leave enough of Anand & Gelfand after their devouring, for
me to compose my simple little picture? Sniff, Sniff…
After five minutes, a solid guy appears, touching
everyone’s cameras with his hand, murmuring in his Russian English, `Thaime,
Thaime’. Funny thing, the burly guy is immaculately dressed – only in India you
find the security in shabby uniforms. In the west, Yessir, they come in real
scary suits and ties. Take a look – one of those guys is guarding a known face
giving a Simultaneous Display…
You of course nod to him, pretending as if you
never noticed that the allowed five minutes to take your photographs are done.
As you turn back to leave, and take one last look at the stage, it sinks in you
that you are at the World Chess Championship, and it is a great place to be…
As you gather yourself – not any gadgets otherwise
to gather, buddy – and leave the auditorium, you notice Anand’s team - wife Aruna
with Hans Walter Schmitt, or Eric van Reem (blogger at http://mateinmoscow.wordpress.com/),
- sitting quietly in the last row settling down to watch the games. A thought
flashes in your mind – Vishy has seconds from Uzbekistan, Poland, Denmark and
of course, India, and has a burly German and a mischievous Dutch guy in his
`entourage’ to complete the complicated picture!
You nod at them, smile, and hurry away to the Press
/ VIP Room, reminding yourself you have somehow landed yourself here as a
`Journalist’, a much more respectful term than `Spectator’. And journalists are
always busy, aren’t they? After all, there is so much food (and beverages) for
thought in the Press Room…
By International Master V Saravanan
