A King in Hiding by Fahim Read Free Book Online

Xavier wants to fix a time to meet up again, but my father is embarrassed. With a few gestures, Xavier makes him understand that there is nothing for him to pay. I see him differently now: in the end, I can see that we’ll get on well together.
    From now on, I go to the club several times a week. Xavier gives me problems to solve by arranging pieces on a chessboard. While I solve one problem, he sets up another one. Then we play.

    XP : When I think back to those early games it makes me feel quite emotional. Fahim had been coached intensively by his father and his early teachers, and showed real potential. He had an astonishing ability to concentrate, extraordinary gifts for mental arithmetic and the geometrical perception of space, and a remarkable memory, all of which enabled him to put multiple moves together in advance and to plan well ahead. For such a little chap, he had an unbelievable mental overview of the game.
    I often quote Plato: ‘You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in an hour of conversation.’ It was perfectly clear already that this child, who spoke a different language from me and with whom my only means of communication was through playing and watching, was a shrewd tactician, alert to the slightest errors on his opponent’s part and capable of deploying a range of strategies that is rare in one so young.
    Fate, if such a thing exists, had put this child in my path for a reason. Forced by his chess-playing abilities to leave his home on the other side of the world, he had chanced to end up just a kilometre away from the club. I had to take him under my wing: ‘If you refuse to teach a man who possesses the right disposition, you lose a man. If you teach a man who does not possess the right disposition, you lose your teaching. A wise man loses neither men nor his teachings.’ I am a great admirer of Confucius.
    To begin with it wasn’t easy, all the same. The chessboard was our sole means of communication. For tactics this wasn’t a problem. But for working on the subtleties of the game it was impossible. How can you explain the complexities of these things through hand gestures? Fortunately, Fahim picked up French at a rate that was quite astounding.

    Xavier teaches me the French names of the pieces – the queen was a mere lady ( dame ) and the bishops fools ( fous ) – and technical vocabulary such as the term for a ‘pin’ ( clouage ) and ‘promotion’ when a pawn reaches the other side of the board. He shows me when you have to sacrifice a piece to put yourself in a position of strength, why I shouldn’t play my queen too early in the game, tricks for stopping my opponent from castling, and how to avoid traps for beginners.
    Gradually the club wakes up. The place livens up and the atmosphere is more welcoming, with nice people and lots of children, running around, shouting, laughing, playing. I like it.
    As well as doing one-on-one training, I also take part in coaching for the competition. I get to know the others in my group: Keigo, small and half-Japanese; a girl called Cécile; tall Louis, called Loulou by everyone; another Louis, Chinese with glasses; and his sister Charlotte, who looks exactly like him and wears the same glasses. I make friends with all of them, especially Chinese Louis. We’re always together, sitting next to each other during coaching, waiting for each other before it starts and playing chess together afterwards. We communicate as best we can. When we play, he often tries to soften me up by proposing a draw in Bengali:
    â€˜ Shoman shoman ?’
    Certainly not! We fight to the end! In Chinese (sort of, anyway) I shoot back:
    â€˜ No ping du !’
    One day I arrive late for a tournament and everyone has already had lunch. There’s nothing left. Chinese Louis gives me his KitKat and is instantly one of my best friends in France. But our friendship isn’t to last. Soon after