Stay curious: Lessons from Lightning Kid

Editor’s note: One of India’s greatest sporting sons, chess Grandmaster Viswanathan Anand—or “Vishy”—looks back at his journey in Lightning Kid: 64 Winning Lessons from the Boy Who Became Five-Time World Chess Champion. The glories and acclaim, the heartbreak, the comebacks, the early days, in 64 crisp sections presented to the reader as lessons from his life. 

In the following excerpt, titled ‘Getting to Know Yourself’, Anand writes about the nature of curiosity. How, despite his dislike for quiet positions on the board, a maddening loss to Magnus Carlsen in the 2013 World Championship led him down a path of introspection and improvement. This excerpt from Lightning Kid: 64 Winning Lessons from the Boy Who Became Five-Time World Chess Champion by Viswanathan Anand (as told to Susan Ninan) has been published with permission from Hachette India.

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In chess, theory never stands still. Every month, there’s a new line in an opening, a computer-suggested move or a trendy gambit that sweeps through tournaments. But the goal stays the same: upset the usual order, pull your opponent out of their comfort zone and get them into the kind of fight you want. How you do this depends a lot on the kind of player you are.

Broadly, there are two types. A ‘horizontal’ player spreads out like a wide tree, a banyan – flexible, adaptable, ready to respond to anything the opponent does. The ‘banyans’ can switch systems, change plans midway and leave the other player wondering, ‘Where will they go next?’ Catching a horizontal player in a trap is tricky because they rarely stay in one place.

A ‘vertical’ player focuses straight ahead, digging deeply into one opening or plan, like a tall, straight tree, a palm. The ‘palms’ explore it obsessively, minutely, learning every small detail that could change the game. You can often guess where a vertical player will fight, but their preparation there can be very strong.

Each style has its pros and cons. A horizontal player might never go deep enough to dominate in one area. A vertical player can become predictable and vulnerable if someone pushes the game outside their chosen track. Most players naturally lean toward one style, but trying both is helpful. The horizontal approach teaches flexibility; the vertical approach teaches depth. The ideal balance is rare and hard to maintain.

Some players can switch between the two depending on the situation. I’ve done this myself – going narrow and focused on a match against someone I know well, and broad and adaptable in a tournament with many different players. Modern chess requires this flexibility. One day you face a teenage prodigy with the latest computer analysis; the next, a veteran who has seen it all before.

A good method is to prepare broadly at first – study many openings and types of positions – then narrow your focus closer to the game. Maybe you reduce your preparation to five main options, then two likely scenarios. Against someone who thrives on surprises, you might keep preparation lighter but wider, ready to improvise. The key question is always: what gives me the best chance to win – going deep or going broad?

That’s where curiosity comes in. Without it, you won’t explore openings you don’t usually play, and you’ll miss chances to surprise your opponent. The best players I’ve met are also the most curious. They ask, ‘What if I try this system? How does this position feel from the other side? Why do so many players avoid this move?’

Curiosity widens your toolkit, sharpens your instincts and makes you more agile. It lets you spot a hidden resource at exactly the right moment. Players who learn flexibility early gain a huge advantage later, especially when opponents target their favourite lines. If you can’t change direction mid-game, you will eventually get stuck.

It’s the same outside chess. If your main skill is replaced by a machine or given to someone else, and you have no other skills, adapting is hard. Twenty years ago, a purely vertical chess player could survive. Today, that’s impossible. Everyone has access to the same databases, computers and opening knowledge. Variety is what sets you apart.

Curiosity also helps with positions you dislike. I’ve always found quiet positions frustrating –when the board looks even and nothing seems to happen. Magnus Carlsen, however, uses these positions like a craftsman uses a chisel. In the 2013 World Championship, he took a quiet position against me and, move by move, squeezed tiny advantages until I cracked. It was maddening – and impressive.

To get better at positions you dislike, ask yourself: ‘What goes wrong here? Do I lose focus? Run out of ideas?’ Even a ‘boring’ position can become a challenge if you set a goal: ‘Let me handle this endgame well’, or ‘Let me keep this equal position equal’. If the same problem shows up in practice games as in real tournaments, you’ve found a weakness to work on. 

The deeper you go into preparation, the more confident you feel at the board. Your goal is to win, and everything from openings to middle-game calculation to endgame technique matters.

When I calculate a long, complicated line, I always check it carefully afterward. The longer the line, the greater the chance of a hidden mistake. Sometimes, in the excitement of a brilliant idea, I overlook something simple. My error-checking is separate from moving the pieces. I ask: ‘What did I miss in similar positions? What do other players often overlook here? Which past games are like this? Are there habits that might cause mistakes?’

Often, a game turns when a piece you forgot about – a pawn far away or a knight sitting quietly – suddenly becomes important. There’s a kind of justice when the unnoticed piece ends up saving the game.

I remember the 1993 PCA qualifiers in Groningen in the Netherlands against Alexander Beliavsky, a chess player who played for the Soviet Union, Ukraine and Slovenia at different times. I had to choose between a clever sideline to avoid his preparation or the main line. Usually, I avoided the main line, worried about hidden surprises. That day, I boldly went into the main line. It worked – I found an idea that gave him serious problems, and I won.

That success wasn’t just luck. It happened because I faced the challenge, trusted my curiosity and took the leap. In life too, an underused skill or overlooked strength can be the resource that gets you through a difficult situation.

The heart of it all is knowing yourself – understanding the resources you have, even if you’re not using them today. Sometimes they’re buried deep, waiting for the right moment. When that moment comes, you must be ready to use them. That’s when preparation, curiosity and adaptability meet – and that’s when you give yourself the best chance to win.

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This excerpt from Lightning Kid: 64 Winning Lessons from the Boy Who Became Five-Time World Chess Champion by Viswanathan Anand (as told to Susan Ninan) has been published with permission from Hachette India.