Soliloquy of a Chess Pawn

The sword in my hand glared at me. I looked at my timorous figure in the shiny foible, and bluntly saw the Queen of The Whites in her regal bearings and magisterial beauty stand behind me. I took a gulp. Before I could ponder over Her Majesty anymore, the flag had been raised, marking the start of another fierce war. With boisterous shouts, we charged at The Blacks, and so did they.

As the other pawns rushed past me, I stayed back and mused over the most unlikely of subjects, I, a mere pawn, could think of in the middle of a war: my life. As pawns, we are the vanguard of our troop, and quite befittingly, we are the ones to go down first. We fall so that the ones with the ranks may rise, a plaintive cry broke my chain of thoughts, and I found the pawn in front of me shredded to pieces. There stood before me the Black Knight, famous for his ferocity and wily stratagems. His black cape cast an ominous shadow upon my face as well as on my life. I closed my eyes, for I wanted a quick death. The Knight drew his sword, while I, my last breath. Seconds later, like a summer tempest, came the White Queen. Bewildered, I found her sword piercing the knight's armour. She went away as soon as she came, while I vacillated between whether to thank her or not.

The battle went on as fiercely as ever, and I, on the other hand, took cover and watched!

A malaise had taken over the battlefield. The air was getting heavier with the vapour of blood. Slash-cut-bang-boom and the battle went on at its usual pace. The Reaper was on one of his busiest days, and suddenly a blood chilling wail rose from somewhere among the throngs. Every eye on the field watched as Her Majesty's snow-white robes in no time revealed red. One of the unwritten rules of the war portended our imminent demise: the Queen's death kills everyone.

Suddenly an ineffable vigour had taken over me. I suddenly knew what to do.

I dodged. I crawled. I took cover, but somehow kept going. The death around me could not faze me anymore, for my salvation awaits me at a yonder.

Finally I had reached the enemy lines. Only one step and I will be consecrated. This would be a story of a tamed soldier becoming the Queen, a ruled becoming the ruler. I took the step…

The sword in the pawn's hand glared at him. He looked at his timorous figure in the shiny foible, and bluntly saw me, the Queen of The Whites, in my regal bearings and magisterial beauty stand behind him.

The writer is an admission examinee from Faujdarhat Cadet College.