Why Gukesh should take a leaf out of a young Vishy Anand’s book and enjoy the criticism ‘while it lasts’
In the high-stakes world of professional chess, few names have created as much buzz in recent times as Dommaraju Gukesh. At just 18, he has etched his name in history by becoming the youngest player to win the prestigious Candidates Tournament, earning the right to challenge for the World Chess Championship title. His achievement has drawn comparisons with India’s first chess legend, Viswanathan Anand, who once walked a similar path filled with talent, pressure, expectations—and yes, criticism.
But here’s a truth both cruel and illuminating: criticism is a privilege, and Gukesh would do well to recognize it as such.
As strange as it may sound, this is a lesson Vishy Anand learned early in his career, and one that Gukesh should embrace: “Enjoy the criticism while it lasts.” Because when no one is criticizing you, chances are, you’re no longer relevant.
The Rise of a Star: Gukesh’s Meteoric Journey
Born in Chennai—the same city that gave the world Viswanathan Anand—Gukesh began making waves in the chess world by becoming the second-youngest grandmaster in history at the age of 12. His play was fearless, aggressive, and refreshingly confident. As he matured, so did his game. His performance at the 2024 Candidates Tournament stunned the chess fraternity, beating seasoned grandmasters with calm precision and mature endgame handling.
But as with any prodigy stepping into the spotlight, the praise quickly brought along its shadow companion: criticism.
From online forums to television debates, people began dissecting Gukesh’s style. “He’s too conservative,” some said. “His opening prep is still shaky.” Others questioned whether he had the nerves to challenge the reigning World Champion under pressure.
And yet, all of this is a sign that he’s made it.
A Page from Anand’s Early Years
To understand why this criticism is, oddly enough, something to be grateful for, one needs to revisit Viswanathan Anand’s early journey.
In the 1980s and early 90s, Anand burst onto the international chess scene with an intuitive, lightning-fast style. He was dubbed the “Lightning Kid” for his speed and fearlessness. But international commentators often doubted whether his style could hold up in classical chess. His laid-back attitude and quick play were misread as a lack of depth or discipline.
The criticism didn’t stop even after he qualified for the World Championship cycle. During his legendary match against Garry Kasparov in 1995, Anand lost after an initial lead—and critics jumped in. Some questioned his mental toughness, others his endurance in long matches.
But Anand never let it get to him. Years later, he would often remark that criticism is better than silence, because it means people are paying attention. It means you’re being taken seriously.
Gukesh’s Moment Mirrors Anand’s Past
Gukesh now finds himself at a similar crossroads. The Indian public sees him as a national hope, while international media analyzes every nuance of his moves. And the critics? They’re doing their job—just like they did with Anand.
It’s not a sign of failure. It’s a sign of importance.
Just as Anand learned to use the feedback—fair or unfair—as fuel, Gukesh can do the same. The analysis of his playing style, the doubts about his preparedness, the microscopic evaluation of his body language during tense moments—all of it is a rite of passage.
The Evolution of a Champion’s Mindset
One of the biggest shifts that happens when a player moves from prodigy to elite grandmaster is mental transformation. Physical skill, calculation ability, and preparation can only take you so far. What matters more is resilience.
Anand’s long career, filled with world titles and decades of top-level consistency, wasn’t built on raw talent alone. It was forged in the fire of relentless criticism, setbacks, and expectations. He never fought the criticism; he absorbed it, filtered it, and used it.
Gukesh, at just 18, is facing a world that expects instant greatness. But if he can develop that same mindset, criticism won’t feel like a burden—it will feel like proof that he’s doing something right.
Criticism Is Fleeting—Silence Is Permanent
Here’s the irony: the louder the criticism, the more relevant you are. The day people stop analyzing your moves, questioning your choices, or debating your potential is the day you’ve faded into obscurity.
That’s why Anand’s advice—implicit in his journey—is so valuable. Enjoy the criticism while it lasts, because it means you’re still rising. It means people care.
Gukesh has not only inspired a new generation of Indian chess fans, but he’s also forced the chess elite to take him seriously. Critics are already calling him the next challenger who might dethrone Ding Liren or whoever the world champion may be when the title match happens. That level of expectation is a compliment, even if it doesn’t always sound like one.
Final Thoughts: The Making of a Future Champion
Dommaraju Gukesh is no longer just a prodigy. He is now a world title contender, a beacon of India’s chess revolution, and a reminder that the country’s legacy in the game didn’t end with Vishy Anand—it only began there.
As he prepares for what may be the most important matches of his career, Gukesh should look back at Anand’s early days and see the pattern. Criticism, analysis, even unfair comments—they’re all signs of relevance. They’re the fire that tempers steel.
So yes, Gukesh should take a leaf out of Anand’s book and enjoy the criticism while it lasts—because it won’t last forever. But when it’s gone, he’ll miss it.
