The Chessboard of Life: Why the Knight Gallops in an "L"

My elder son was deep in a game of chess. I sat beside him, and next to me was my youngest, quietly observing. As my eldest moved his pieces against his friend, I posed a question: “How does the horse move?”

He replied without looking up, “It moves in an ‘L’ shape, Papa. Always an ‘L.’ It doesn’t go straight. It takes two steps forward and then one diagonal to the left or right. It moves in an ‘L’ pattern.”

Then I turned to my younger son, who was simply watching me, wondering, as he had never seen a chessboard before. I asked him the same question: “How does the horse move?”

He lit up and said, “Oh, it gallops, right?”

Here was the fascinating contradiction. One son, immersed in the game, described the horse as moving in an ‘L.’ The other, seeing with fresh eyes, described its real, living motion. If you asked any ordinary person, they would say a horse gallops, trots, or runs. So why did my eldest, who knows very well that a real horse gallops, insist it moves in an ‘L’?

It is because when you are playing a game, you become engrossed in its universe. You willingly believe in its rules and the narratives it demands you accept. Your knowledge conforms to the paradigm of the game. My son was not wrong; within the world of chess, the knight does move in an ‘L.’ That is the only truth that matters there.

This same principle applies to how we think about life. In this grand “game of life,” the knowledge we gather, the data we collect, is primarily for leading this life. Just as in chess, the knowledge you accumulate and use pertains only to chess. You know it is not universally accurate—a real knight doesn’t hop over pieces in a perfect ‘L’—but you must use that knowledge to play the game effectively.

If you switch from chess to carom, or to badminton, you must embrace a completely new set of rules, ideas, and principles. The knowledge you wield changes starkly from one game to the next. The key insight is this: every game has its own paradigm, its own logic, and its own associated knowledge.

So it is with the game of life.

Consider the information we gather daily. This very recording, these words, are part of the information that helps me navigate this existence. Yet, if I seek absolute knowledge, true knowledge, it will not be the knowledge I gather solely within this life. Just as the absolute truth that a horse gallops doesn’t help you move a knight across a chessboard, certain higher realizations may not be directly applicable within life’s current construct.

In spirituality, you might progress and realize profound truths: Tat Tvam Asi (“Thou art that”), Aham Brahmasmi (“I am Brahman”). You might understand the unity of all consciousness, or see beyond the illusion of being merely a human being. However, that sublime realization, while illuminating, is not always useful within the daily construct of life. You cannot always operate from the perspective that everyone is an extension of yourself while navigating complex human interactions, responsibilities, and societal rules.

Therefore, we must gather information for life just as we do for any game. But we must realize that none of this information is ultimately holistic or absolute. Its value is contextual. In chess, the ‘L’-shaped move is valuable and viable only within those sixty-four squares. In life, the knowledge we collect—be it spiritual or materialistic—is for leading this life.

There is knowledge far beyond this, but it may not be viable here. For instance, even holding the core belief that the universe is an extension of myself, I still interact with others as separate individuals. Even if the Vedas or higher wisdom declare life to be a dream, we must, for practical purposes, treat it as reality.

Why? Because in any game, you must play by its rules to achieve a desired outcome. If we treated life purely as an inconsequential dream and acted without regard for its inherent regulations, the results would likely be unpleasant. Even within dreams, there are rules; that is why we experience both pleasant dreams and nightmares.

If you wish to make the “dream” of your life a pleasant experience, you must follow the rules and regulations set for this particular dream. The goal is not to reject the game but to play it with awareness.

The takeaway from my sons’ chess lesson is this: no matter what game you are playing, the knowledge you gather is for that particular game. Ultimate knowledge might not resonate with the practical knowledge needed to play. Being cognizant of that ultimate truth is a great blessing, a guiding star. But as you play the game of life, you must still respect its rules. You must understand the importance of the knowledge you are collecting here and now, and recognize that it serves this particular journey.

If you seek knowledge beyond the game you are playing, beyond the life you are experiencing, cherish it. Let it illuminate your perspective. But also understand that it might not be practically viable on this chessboard. The knight, for now, must move in an ‘L.’ And you must play your move, fully engaged in the game, even as you remember, somewhere deep down, that a horse, in the open field, truly gallops.