The Sanskrit verse still echoes in my mind: “vinaash kaalae vipreet buddhi” (विनाश काले विपरीत बुद्धि). In my childhood years, I heard these words during a chess tournament that taught me two profound lessons I carry with me to this day.

I was a young chess enthusiast sitting in a quiet tournament hall in New Delhi, my heart racing with anticipation. The regional chess championship finals lay before me, with the winner advancing to the national tournament. Like many young players in India, I had spent countless hours studying chess books and practicing endgames, and this was my moment to prove myself.

Across the board sat my opponent, an older player known for his defensive style. The game had been intense, but after hours of careful maneuvering, I had achieved a winning position. The endgame was exactly the type I had practiced hundreds of times – the kind where victory was not just probable, but certain. My opponent knew it too. I could see it in his demeanor as he muttered that Sanskrit verse to himself: “vinaash kaalae vipreet buddhi” – when destruction approaches, the mind fails first.

The tournament hall buzzed with the quiet energy of other ongoing matches, but in my mind, I was already celebrating. I imagined myself at the nationals, pictured the proud smiles of my parents and coach, contemplated the opening moves I would use in future games. The remaining moves felt like a mere formality.

That’s when it happened. In my premature euphoria, I made a move so elementary in its error that my coach would have scolded a beginner for making it. I placed my rook on a square that left it vulnerable to a simple fork. The moment my hand left the piece, the reality of what I had done crashed over me like a wave of ice water. My opponent’s eyes widened slightly – he saw it too.

There was no need to play out the remaining moves. In chess, as in life, some mistakes cannot be undone. I extended my hand in resignation, my dreams of national glory evaporating in an instant. My opponent, showing the grace of a true sportsman, shook my hand and said in Hindi, “You play very well.”

Walking home that evening, I reflected on what had happened. I had learned not one, but two distinct lessons. First was the danger of premature celebration – never take victory for granted until the final move is made. But there was a deeper lesson in that Sanskrit verse my opponent had been muttering. “Vinaash kaalae vipreet buddhi” speaks to how our minds can betray us in crucial moments, especially when we’re under pressure or facing potential defeat. My opponent had been lamenting his seemingly inevitable loss, yet it was my mind that ultimately failed, proving the ancient wisdom works both ways – whether we’re facing victory or defeat, losing our mental clarity can lead to our downfall.

Today, these lessons serve me well in everything I do. I’ve learned to maintain focus and humility until a task is truly complete, and I’ve learned to stay mentally sharp especially during crucial moments, whether I appear to be winning or losing. Sometimes our most valuable wisdom comes not from our victories, but from those moments when we learn the true cost of taking them for granted.

[Note: I wrote the original post in April 1997 and subsequently lightly updated it while preserving the original story and its lessons.]