By Neel Anil Panicker
Sheeba eyed the stack of pieces—the rook at the far corner, the two pawns at the centre that were hemmed in by a predatory bishop—and her fingers itched for the next move.
With much difficulty she controlled herself and allowed her mind the opportunity to mull over the situation yet another time.
A good five minutes later, once she had affirmed for the nth time that the coast was clear, she readied for the final assault and checkmating of Preeti, her bete noire, her bitter rival of the past two years, not just on the chess arena but also when it came to matters of teenage romance and boyfriend rivalry.
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