What do we remember in life?
Personally, I have had two different experiences of remembrance. The first is remembering events that I have actually lived through, which have left their mark on me and evoked intense emotions-omething I suppose applies to all of us to a greater or lesser extent. The second is when a feeling, a sense of joy, comes to me as if from a life far removed from this world; this, too, is a form of spiritual remembrance. Spiritual remembrance has an esoteric dimension; those well-versed in the subject can speak more eloquently on this. I have had experiences that have enabled me to recall emotions I had never felt before and to connect with the very core of my soul-and this, too, is a form of remembrance. I shall not go into the details of this recollection here; not only does it lie outside the scope of our discussion, but as far as we have learnt and understood, such experiences should not be recounted.
One of the days I remember is the day my father gave me my first chess set. Memories of that day come back to me from time to time. I feel the excitement and optimism of that day all over again. I am transported to a different world and feel that sense of curious joy I miss so much right down to my very bones.
The world of our childhood is, in a sense, the last remnant of the world described in Stefan Zweig’s biographical novel "The World of Yesterday". Compared to today, it is a more defined, orderly and forward-looking world. Moral judgements are clear-cut, political regimes are relatively stable, and there are various preconceptions in the cultural and ideological spheres. The Keynesian welfare state has not yet completely disappeared, but the decline has begun. Education and healthcare are public services. Values such as secularism and republicanism are beyond debate. Of course, everyone has their own political views, but certain fundamental values are shared by all, and politics is conducted on the basis of these common understandings. In Parliament, dark suits are worn, debates are lively, and speeches last three hours. In schools, uniforms are worn, lunchboxes are carried, handwriting is taught, and one does not speak without permission. One addresses an elder as ‘sir’ or ‘madam’, and one does not ask ‘what?’ for clarification. Nails are trimmed regularly, hair is not allowed to grow too long, and one raises a finger before speaking. Inkwells and quills are used. This is a world of things that may seem small but, viewed from today’s perspective, are significant...
In a country such as this, children’s lives are also shaped in the light of its own cultural and political values. Children have not yet become the concern of private boarding schools, foundations or religious communities, for example. Efforts are made to instil in them positive, productive and self-improving habits, and to help them become people who set an example to others. Playing a musical instrument, memorising poetry, or at the very least reading a book once a week or following a magazine once a month are some examples of this.
When we were children, I used to read "Doğan Kardeş", for example. This magazine, which arrived at our home every month, contained a wealth of content-from crafts and puzzles to general knowledge and world events-all presented in a way we could understand. I gradually became hooked on it. Later, I began reading "Bilim ve Teknik" magazine regularly, and eventually "Varlık" magazine as well. I was obsessed with pastels. I would spend hours drawing with pastels; I never parted with my Mon Ami pastel set, and I even missed its scent. The pictures I drew are still preserved in my archives and files today. Yet if anyone thinks these were too heavy for a primary school child, I would say they are mistaken. They are mistaken because, for us ‘big kids’, the imagination knew no bounds.
I think I first saw a chess piece in Year 3 of primary school, in the hands of a friend called Zafer. I still can’t forget it even today; it was a simple plastic knight. It was as if it had come straight out of a fairy-tale land. It was as if a prince had lost it and we’d found it. My friend kept this piece in his palm as if it were a treasure, never showing it to anyone-but he’d let his guard down just once! Like any child, he’d wanted to show it off; he’d placed it on the desk during a break, but eventually grew uncomfortable with the crowd that had gathered around him! He’d shown it to a few close friends a couple of times, in ‘small groups’, and then simply popped it back into his pocket! What was it? What on earth was it? What was it for? Everyone was curious, but I think I was one of the most curious of all... Zafer’s father was a maths teacher. He often went to the teachers’ house in town to meet up with his friends. May he rest in peace. We soon got used to going there too. Shortly after seeing that chess piece, Zafer took me to the teachers’ residence. Since they knew him and we were just children, they let us sit there; we didn’t cause any trouble or make a fuss. That’s where I saw my first chess set. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. Actually, it wasn’t just chess; draughts were played there too. But the beauty of the chess set, the allure of the pieces, and the way people would sit there for hours, thinking with such respect and reverence—and with great seriousness-was unlike anything else. Zafer introduced me to the pieces there and taught me how to play chess. Every day we’d talk about a different piece and learn how they moved. Of course, our first games were very amateurish. Sometimes I moved the pieces the wrong way or placed them in the wrong spots on the board. But I would learn to play properly in time.
Some nights, it would appear in my dreams. In my dreams, the chess pieces would come to life; the knights and bishops would leap over one another and fight as if they were real beings. Years later, when I saw this in the Harry Potter cartoon series, I was so moved that I couldn’t hold back my tears.
This new passion of mine couldn’t possibly escape the notice of the rest of the family, of course. Sure enough, after a while I started pestering my dad – or, to use the slang of the time, ‘drilling into his head’. To be honest, at first he was taken aback and even chuckled to himself a bit. But once he realised how serious I was about this passion, he said, ‘I’ll get it for you with my first pay cheque,’ and I think he was actually a bit proud that I’d taken up such a hobby.
Back then, there was a morning school system. Our parents would drop us off at primary school in the mornings. As my mum and dad were working, my late grandmother or grandfather would collect me from the school gates at the end of the day and take me home. Just as my passion for chess was beginning to wane, I came home one afternoon to find my very first chess set.
It was a sunny spring day. The light was so beautiful that even today I can still picture the angle at which it fell. There it was… My first chess set sat on the table, glistening in the light reflected back from the window onto the light-brown surface. It was actually a simple plastic set, but I still can’t forget it to this day. I threw my bag aside and rushed to the table without even taking off my apron. I sat there for hours, gazing at it as if I were standing before something sacred. As far as I’m concerned, it was one of the most beautiful days of my life. There it was, finally mine; I had a complete chess set, with everything it needed. Now I could play chess for hours on end, either by myself or with friends, and if I wanted to, I could even organise a tournament. Indeed, once primary school finished and secondary school began, small tournaments would take place. Zafer was, of course, the favourite in these tournaments and beat everyone. I could never hold my own against him.
As the years went by, technology advanced. Chess has now become a computer-assisted game played on a screen. Artificial intelligence has emerged. One of the earliest examples of this was the matches played by Kasparov, the legendary player of our childhood, against Deep Blue, one of the first AI systems. Today, we can play against each other online or engage in tough matches against the computer. Nevertheless, there is a unique pleasure in playing against a human opponent, observing their moves and focus, and being able to follow the game even from the sidelines.
I’ve had some very competitive friends when it comes to chess. I wouldn’t exactly count myself as a very good player compared to them. Still, I’m a member of several chess forums, I have my software, and my chess sets are still at home. Even today, I look back fondly on the day I bought my first chess set. One can find happiness in small things. A habit, a gift, a sweet smile, a flower petal left between the pages of a book... You just need to know how to see happiness. I’m sure you’ll be happy too.
Just as I am happy right now as I write these lines…
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