Gukesh Dommaraju’s Big Chess Win. How The Politicians Have Made This “Celebration” Into A “Pawn” Of Regional Identity?

In a cricket-crazy nation, chess often takes a backseat. But when an 18-year-old prodigy from Chennai, Gukesh Dommaraju, became the youngest world chess champion by defeating defending champion Ding Liren of China, it was impossible not to notice. His victory in the 14th game of the World Chess Championship in Singapore marked a historic moment for India.

Gukesh’s journey is as inspiring as it is extraordinary. Born in Chennai, the capital of Tamil Nadu, and educated at Velammal Nexus School, Gukesh started playing chess at the age of seven. By 12, he had already become a grandmaster—the third-youngest in history and the youngest from India.

His love for the game is evident in his interviews, where he talks about the complexity and beauty of chess. His room in Chennai is stacked with trophies and chess books, showcasing to his dedication, passion and the love for the game.

But amidst the applause for his achievements, a political game of its own began to unfold.

The Chessboard of Politics

Gukesh’s victory should have been a unifying moment for the nation. Instead, it became a tug-of-war between Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh, with both states vying to claim him as their own.

Tamil Nadu Chief Minister MK Stalin proudly hailed Gukesh’s win as a reaffirmation of Chennai’s status as the “global Chess Capital.” His post on X (formerly Twitter) celebrated the young champion as a Tamil Nadu prodigy and highlighted the state’s contribution to nurturing chess talent.

Not to be outdone, Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister N Chandrababu Naidu chimed in, calling Gukesh “our very own Telugu boy” and celebrating his victory as a triumph for the Telugu community.
And just like that, what should have been a national celebration turned into a debate over ancestry, ethnicity, and state pride.

The Online War of Words

The social media battlefield lit up with users debating whether Gukesh was Tamilian or Telugu. Some defended Tamil Nadu’s claim, pointing to the state’s financial support for Gukesh, including a generous Rs 75 lakh grant. Others argued that Gukesh’s Telugu heritage made him Andhra’s pride, regardless of his place of birth or upbringing.

The discussion quickly spiraled into broader arguments about ethnicity, language, and even Indian Americans like Kamala Harris and Usha Vance, who have faced similar identity debates.

One user summed up the Tamil Nadu argument: “Gukesh is a Tamilian. Tamil Nadu’s chess culture, infrastructure, and support were instrumental in his success.” Another countered: “State is not equal to ethnicity. Gukesh’s roots are Telugu, just like Usha Vance is Telugu American.”

Why Can’t We Celebrate Him as an Indian?

It’s disheartening to see a moment of national pride reduced to a regional tug-of-war. Gukesh’s victory isn’t about Tamil Nadu or Andhra Pradesh—it’s about India. It’s about a young boy who dreamed big, worked hard, and made the nation proud.

Yes, Tamil Nadu’s support for chess deserves recognition. And yes, Gukesh’s Telugu heritage is part of his identity. But does it matter where he’s from when he’s put India on the global chess map?

This isn’t the first time politicians have hijacked an individual’s success for their agendas, and it won’t be the last. But perhaps we can learn something from Gukesh himself. In chess, every piece has a role to play, and victory comes from working together, not tearing each other apart.

India’s Divisions. Why Regional Politics Still Holds Us Back

India, a country that gained independence over seven decades ago, continues to struggle with deep political and regional divisions.
These fractures often manifest in a way that is not only unnecessary but counterproductive, especially when it comes to celebrating the achievements of its people.

The controversy over Gukesh Dommaraju’s chess victory, which sparked a battle between Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh over his heritage, is a glaring example of how regionalism still poisons the national discourse. It’s a sad reality that, after all these years, India hasn’t fully overcome its state-centric politics, and it continues to place artificial boundaries on what should be shared pride.

The irony here is striking. Gukesh’s triumph is a moment of national celebration—a victory for India on the world stage. Yet, rather than focusing on the significance of his achievement, political leaders and online users were more interested in claiming him for their respective states. This sort of division doesn’t just weaken national unity; it damages the collective spirit that should define the Indian identity.

Why is India still so divided? Why, after so many years of independence, are we still struggling with issues of state and regional identity?

The answer lies partly in the way Indian politics has evolved, with regional parties often prioritizing state-centric issues to maintain their hold on power. This leads to an unhealthy competition between states, where achievements are reduced to mere claims of ownership rather than being celebrated as a collective success for the country.

It’s also important to consider how deeply ingrained this mindset is in the cultural and political fabric of India. For years, the political discourse has been shaped by state-centric narratives that focus on regional pride, language, and culture, often at the expense of broader national unity.

We should be proud of our diversity but instread of celeberating such and encouraging collaboration we have instead given way to a sense of competition between states.
It’s not just in the case of Gukesh’s victory that we see this happening. From cricket to Bollywood, from political appointments to economic opportunities, there is a constant tug-of-war between states, each trying to stake its claim.

And it’s not just politicians who perpetuate this division. Many Indians, influenced by regional pride, get caught up in the same rhetoric, often missing the bigger picture – that unity in diversity should be the core of our identity.

Gukesh’s Words. A Dream Realized, Not a Regional Victory

Gukesh Dommaraju’s victory should have been a moment of reflection for the entire country.
The young chess prodigy, speaking with emotion after his historic win, shared his thoughts on his achievement: “I was dreaming this moment for the last 10 years. Happy I realized this dream. I got a bit emotional because I was not expecting to win. But then I got a chance to press on.”

His words reflect a young man who had dedicated his life to the game, not as a representative of a particular state or region, but as an individual with a dream.

When Gukesh speaks of his dreams, it’s clear that his journey was personal. It was about his passion for chess, his dedication, and his belief in his own potential—not about where he was born or which state he represents.

His emotions following the victory were rooted in the hard work and sacrifices that led him to that moment, not in the regional debates that would soon follow.

So, should Gukesh attribute his win to a state? Absolutely not.

His victory is not about Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, or any other region—it’s about Gukesh as an individual and India as a whole.

The state support he received, particularly from Tamil Nadu, played a crucial role in his development, but this is true for any state that fosters young talent. It’s important to acknowledge the support and infrastructure that helped Gukesh along the way, but attributing his success to one state alone diminishes the larger, more meaningful achievement.

A Game-Changer for Chess in India

Gukesh’s win is not just a personal triumph; it is also a potential game-changer for the sport of chess in India. Chess has always had a rich legacy in the country, but it has often been overshadowed by other sports like cricket.

Gukesh’s victory opens up new possibilities for the game’s growth and popularity in India, particularly among young people. It could inspire a new generation of chess enthusiasts, who may not have previously considered it a viable career option.

But for this to happen, India needs to move beyond the divisive rhetoric that has long held back its true potential. Gukesh’s victory should serve as a rallying cry for all Indians, regardless of their state or region. It should unite us in our shared pride for the achievements of our youth and remind us that success knows no borders.

So let’s celebrate Gukesh Dommaraju—not as a Tamilian or a Telugu boy, but as an Indian who made history. And let’s hope that next time, we can leave the pawns of politics off the board.