An October encounter in Mumbai and a story of the people who make success possible
At eleven, Sharvaanica has already achieved what many aspiring chess players spend years dreaming of. A Woman FIDE Master (WFM), she has made a place for herself in the world of competitive chess. She won a gold medal at the World Cadet Under-10 Chess Championship in Almaty, Kazakhstan, in 2025. She has also been crowned World Cadet Rapid Chess Champion in 2024 and 2026. She loves winning, is fiercely determined, and seems to have an almost endless appetite for the game. Her dedication is extraordinary. But what makes her even more interesting is that she is not quite the person I had imagined a chess player to be.
I had always pictured chess players as serious, quiet individuals, constantly absorbed in their thoughts, calculating their next move even when away from the board. Sharvaanica challenged that picture almost immediately. She is lively, affectionate, naughty, full of energy and wonderfully sociable. She can be deeply focused when chess is involved, but she is just as capable of filling a room with laughter. I met her during my ten-day visit to Mumbai in October. It was a trip that came after several rounds of consideration, reconsideration, planning and cancellation.
At the beginning of 2026, I had made a resolution to travel more, read more books that challenged my perspectives, and meet people whose stories could teach me something. My brother and I had planned to welcome the year in Mumbai, but for one reason or another, the plan kept getting postponed. Eventually, I made the trip in October. Looking back, I think the wait was worth it.
My brother works with ChessBase India, and I was staying in accommodation arranged by the organisation. Sharvaanica and her family happened to be in Mumbai around the same time, and CBI invited them to stay at the same apartment. That is how I got the opportunity to spend time with her and her family.
I met several people during those ten days. Some were Mumbaikars, while others had come to the city from different parts of the country. There were familiar faces from the chess world, too. But my conversations with Sharvaanica's mother and her elder sister, Ratshikaa, stayed with me long after the trip ended.
The more I spoke to them, the more I realised that I was not simply getting to know the family of a young chess champion. I was learning about the people, decisions, adjustments and years of work that had helped make her journey possible.
We often celebrate an individual's achievements. We remember the name on the trophy, the person in the photograph and the one standing on the podium. Much less often do we ask about the people who made it possible for that person to get there.
Before I tell you more about Sharvaanica's journey, I would like you to meet the two people who have been instrumental in shaping it: her mother and her elder sister, Ratshikaa.
The mother who nurtured two generations of dreams
Before she became the person managing her younger daughter's chess career, Sharvaanica's mother had built a professional identity of her own. She was a Physics teacher, and teaching was not merely something she did to earn a living. It was work she was deeply committed to.
She ran private tuition classes and also taught part-time at schools and colleges. Her days were long. Her morning tuition batch began at 5 am and continued until around 8:30 am. She would then teach at educational institutions, sometimes between 9 am and 5 pm, before returning to her evening batch at 5 pm. The evening classes usually ended around 9 pm, but on some days she stayed until 11 pm, particularly when students needed extra attention or could not attend at their scheduled time.
At one point, she had more than 350 students. She charged around ₹100 per student, and her reputation as a teacher grew through the results she helped her students achieve and the trust she built over time. Educational institutions also approached her to teach part-time.
What stood out to me was not simply the number of hours she worked, but the thought she put into teaching. She tried to understand the needs of individual students and adapted her methods accordingly. She used techniques such as mirror reading and reciprocal reading to improve concentration and cognitive abilities. She believed that teaching required more than delivering a lesson. It required understanding how a child learned.
Her commitment to her students continued even after Sharvaanica was born in April 2015. Her students had examinations beginning in May. Although people suggested that she take some time off after delivery, she returned to teaching within a few days. Sharvaanica was born prematurely, and her immunity had not fully developed. Doctors had advised extra care. So, while teaching, her mother would carry her wrapped against her back.
In 2016, she also prepared for the Teachers Eligibility Test in just two months and secured the top position in her district in Tamil Nadu. To concentrate on her preparation, she had to stay in a hostel, away from Sharvaanica, who was still an infant. The decision was difficult. She even missed her daughter's first birthday. Yet, she remained committed to continuing the work she had built over the years and to the students who had placed their trust in her.
There is another little detail that says a lot about her relationship with teaching. Before Sharvaanica was born, she once felt that her long working hours left her with very little time. She searched online for ways to save time without compromising the quality of her classes. One suggestion was to cut her hair short. She did exactly that, despite the disapproval she faced from people around her.
She also made use of the space outside her small home. She created a shaded, well-lit place where anyone who needed a quiet corner to read or study could sit. It was open to everyone, without a fee. For her, education was not confined to the students enrolled in her classes.
She continued teaching Physics until 2023. By then, she had spent years building a career, earning the trust of students and establishing herself as a teacher. Walking away from it was not a small decision. But something had begun to change.
Sharvaanica had developed an interest in chess. Her mother noticed how naturally she gravitated towards the game and how well she was doing. She could see that her daughter had a talent worth exploring. There was no guarantee of where this interest would lead, and no certainty that chess would become a career. But she wanted to give her daughter the opportunity to find out.
In 2023, she stepped away from her teaching career to manage Sharvaanica's chess journey.
It meant leaving behind something she had built over many years. It also meant making a decision that was not easy for the family. They came from a humble background, and every major decision had financial implications. Relatives were disappointed, too. They could not quite understand why someone who had worked so hard to establish herself professionally would give it all up.
But she had made her choice.
The woman who had once spent her days teaching hundreds of students now devoted her time to one child's dream. The same patience with which she had understood her students' individual learning needs became part of how she supported Sharvaanica. The same discipline that had shaped her own career now helped her navigate the demands of competitive chess.
I found this transition particularly moving. She had not stopped believing in education or in the value of her work. She had simply recognised a different opportunity to nurture a young person's potential. She had spent years helping students find their way through Physics. Now, she was helping her daughter find her way through chess.
And while her decision deserves admiration, I also found myself thinking about what it must mean to leave behind a professional identity that took years to build. It is easy to celebrate a mother's dedication once her child's success becomes visible. It is harder to understand the uncertainty that comes with making such a decision before anyone knows what the outcome will be.
She made that choice without knowing that her daughter would eventually become a Woman FIDE Master. She made it because she believed her daughter deserved a chance.
The sister who became a second mother
Ratshikaa, Sharvaanica's elder sister, was herself a promising chess player and a chess teacher. In fact, she was the one who first introduced Sharvaanica to the game.
She was doing well in chess herself. But around Class IX, she began recognising the potential in her younger sister. Gradually, she decided to devote more of her time and energy to helping Sharvaanica develop that potential.
She was still a teenager herself when she began taking on responsibilities that would ordinarily belong to an adult. She would make the bed neatly so that her mother could rest after returning home from work. She took care of household responsibilities and looked after Sharvaanica. She bathed her, fed her, taught her and helped her practise chess.
In many ways, she became a second mother to her.
As Sharvaanica began participating in professional tournaments, Ratshikaa's role grew further. There were times when Sharvaanica could not attend chess lessons because she was away playing tournaments. Ratshikaa would attend those lessons in her place and later teach her what she had learned. Even today, she remains closely involved in her sister's training and professional journey.
Now, she helps manage Sharvaanica's training, schedule, engagements and career trajectory. She is not simply an elder sister cheering from the sidelines. She is deeply involved in the work that goes into keeping the journey on track.
And yet, Ratshikaa has aspirations of her own. She hopes to become a civil servant. But with so much of her time and energy going into managing her younger sister's career, there is little room left to think about or prepare for her own ambitions.
She does not appear resentful of this responsibility. She loves her sister and seems genuinely happy to be part of her journey. But I do hope that, somewhere along the way, her dreams receive the same attention and encouragement that she has given Sharvaanica's. After all, the person who helps another person fly deserves the opportunity to spread her own wings, too.
After all, the person who helps another person fly deserves the opportunity to spread her own wings, too.
A little girl who breathes chess
And then, of course, there is Sharvaanica herself.
She would walk into the apartment, greet everyone and, within a few minutes, settle down to work. There is something quite remarkable about watching an eleven-year-old approach her game with such seriousness. She is determined, sometimes stubborn, and clearly loves winning. Chess occupies a considerable part of her day and her imagination.
But outside the chessboard, she is a different kind of force. She is playful, affectionate and full of mischief. She can be easily distracted, and like any child her age, she has moments when she does not feel like practising. Her mother and sister have learnt to navigate these moments with patience. Sometimes they find ways to turn practice into a game. Sometimes they give her space and allow her to return to it on her own.
Watching them together, I realised that nurturing a young talent is not simply about arranging lessons, tournaments and practice sessions. It is also about understanding the child behind the talent.
There is a little girl who needs to play, laugh, get distracted, be naughty and occasionally have her way. And there is a young chess player who wants to win, improve and keep getting better. Her family seems to understand that both these sides need room to grow.
In fact, I began to wonder whether Sharvaanica's ability to remain so carefree, despite the demands of competitive chess, comes partly from knowing that there are people around her who will take care of everything else. Her family quietly absorbs many of the difficulties, whether financial or related to opportunities, travel and time.
Ratshikaa, in particular, seems to have grown into responsibilities that came at an age when she should have had the freedom to simply be a child herself. She took on the role of a caregiver, a teacher and eventually a manager, often without realising how much of her own childhood she was putting aside.
Sharvaanica gets to be mischievous because there is someone willing to patiently guide her back to the game. She gets to focus on chess because her mother and sister spend so much of their time making sure the other pieces of her life fall into place. While she practises, they plan. While she plays, they manage. While she celebrates a win or learns from a loss, they carry the responsibilities that come with the journey.
I do not say this to take away from Sharvaanica's own hard work. Her achievements are hers, and she deserves every bit of recognition she receives. But a young person's ability to pursue a dream often depends on how much of the uncertainty and difficulty the people around them are willing to shoulder.
Sharvaanica blooms because her family has created the conditions in which she can grow. She has the space to be a child and the opportunity to pursue something extraordinary. That balance is not accidental. It is made possible by the time, effort and affection of the people around her.
I suppose that is what makes her journey particularly interesting. It is not just about individual determination. It is about togetherness. She is not being raised only to become a chess player. She is being allowed to remain a child while pursuing something extraordinary.
A family that grows together
Whenever I looked at them, I felt as if I were looking at a beautifully blossomed tree. Perhaps it was this image that made me curious to understand more about the contributions each member of the family had made to Sharvaanica's chess journey.
If Sharvaanica is the flower, vibrant, colourful and visible to everyone, then her mother is the root system that anchors and nourishes the tree. Ratshikaa is the trunk, connecting the roots to the flower and providing the support that allows it to grow.
I do not want this comparison to diminish Ratshikaa's contribution. She was a child herself when she began supporting her mother, and she continues to support both her mother and sister with remarkable affection. The responsibilities she has taken on are not small, and they deserve to be recognised in their own right.
A flower cannot exist independently of its roots or the trunk that holds it. Yet, when we admire a tree, it is usually the flowers that catch our attention.
Sharvaanica's achievements are hers. She has worked hard, shown discipline and developed an extraordinary commitment to chess at an age when most children are still discovering their interests. But the opportunities that have allowed her to pursue this journey have also been shaped by the people standing beside her.
Her mother's decision to leave a career she had built over years, Ratshikaa's willingness to take on responsibilities at a young age, and the countless adjustments made by the family are all part of this story.
What struck me during my conversations with them was that they did not speak about these things as sacrifices. They seemed to see them as natural extensions of their love for Sharvaanica. But I do not think that makes their contributions any less significant.
At the same time, I hope the family continues to make room for the dreams of both daughters. Sharvaanica deserves every opportunity to explore her talent, and Ratshikaa deserves the opportunity to pursue the future she imagines for herself. Their mother's own identity as a teacher, too, remains an important part of this family's story.
Perhaps growing together means finding a way for everyone's dreams to have space.
The stories we don't always tell
There is one more person in this story whom I would not want to leave out: Sharvaanica's father.
He may not always be able to travel with her to tournaments, but he makes sure she receives the warmest welcome whenever she returns home. Her performance does not determine the affection with which he receives her. Whether she comes back with a trophy or without one, he is simply happy to have his daughter home.
He makes her sit on his shoulders and dances merrily around with her. I found that image particularly beautiful. Thousands of kilometres away, his daughter is building something for herself, representing her talent and working towards her dreams. And when she returns, he welcomes her not as a champion who must have won, but simply as his little girl.
Perhaps that, too, is an important part of growing up with a dream. To know that your worth at home is never measured by the result of your last game.
I returned from Mumbai having met several people, heard countless stories and experienced a city that has always had something new to offer. But this particular encounter stayed with me.
I had travelled with the intention of meeting people, and I ended up meeting a family that made me reconsider how I look at individual achievements.
I had gone to meet a chess champion. I came back thinking about her mother, her sister, her father and the countless hours of invisible work that go into nurturing a dream.
And perhaps that is the most beautiful thing about travelling. Sometimes, you return with more than photographs, souvenirs or memories of places. You return with stories that change the way you see people.
This one certainly did.
To the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, husbands, wives and all those who quietly stand behind someone else's success: this is a little acknowledgement of you.
Not every contribution gets a trophy. Not every effort finds its way into a newspaper headline. Not every person behind a successful individual gets introduced to the audience.
But their presence matters. Their work matters. Their dreams matter, too.
And the next time we celebrate a person standing tall, perhaps we should take a moment to look beyond the flowers and acknowledge the roots that made their blossoming possible.
About the author
Khushi Kumari is a teacher by profession and a keen observer of the world around her. She completed her B.Ed. in June 2026 from Shyama Prasad Mukherji College for Women, University of Delhi. She currently works as an Education Program Associate with a Delhi-based NGO, where she continues to engage with questions of education, learning and social realities. She is interested in exploring everyday life through writing, often drawing from her personal experiences, observations and reflections on society, relationships and education.
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