India has reached a strange, good problem. For years, there was one lighthouse in Indian chess. Now there are many bright lamps. The question is not just who will win more games. It is who carries the weight, the calm, the patience that defined Viswanathan Anand.
And maybe, whether that burden even belongs to one person anymore.
Shadow of a Legend: Understanding the “Anand Effect”
Anand never demanded attention. He earned it by being steady. Titles came and went. So did eras. He learned faster time controls when others complained. He learned computers when others resisted. That habit of learning is the real inheritance.
What India has today is often called the Anand Effect. More coaches. More parents who trust chess. More children who think this is a real path, not a hobby. The system now exists. The pressure is different. Earlier, talent fought loneliness. Now talent fights expectations.
So when we ask who’s next, we’re really asking something else. Who carries that habit forward?
Here’s the thing. India doesn’t have one answer. It has many. And they don’t look the same.
Dommaraju Gukesh: The unblinking classical monster
Watch Gukesh play and you’ll feel it. Silence. Long pauses. A stubborn refusal to accept half answers. He wants the truth of the position, even if it costs him time on the clock.
When he became world champion by beating Ding Liren, it didn’t feel like a shock. It felt… planned. Like he’d already walked that road in his head.
Gukesh is built for long matches. Classical chess. Pressure that sits on your chest for weeks. He studies endings the way some people study for exams. Slowly. Repeatedly. Without drama.
But there’s a human edge here too. In faster formats, he’s still learning to let go. Anand mastered that balance early. Gukesh is getting there, one stubborn game at a time.
He might be the closest thing India has had to a classical monster since Anand. Cold, focused, unromantic. And that’s a compliment.
Rameshbabu Praggnanandhaa: The Intuitive Master of Flow
Praggnanandhaa plays chess like he’s listening to it. You’ll see him glance, move, and only later realise how deep the idea was.
His Tata Steel win mattered. Not because of the trophy. Because it showed range. He can play many events, against many styles, and still come out smiling.
He’s dangerous in rapid and blitz. Very. That’s where Anand ruled for years, even when age was supposed to slow him down. Pragg has that same lightness. Lose a game, shrug, come back tomorrow.
He doesn’t hunt perfection. He hunts flow. And that’s why he survives bad days better than most.
If Gukesh is the exam topper, Praggnanandhaa is the kid who understands the chapter.
Praggnanandhaa secured sixth place in the recent Tata Steel Chess India event in both the Rapid Open and Blitz Open sections.
Two paths, one pressure
They’ve beaten each other. Lost to each other. Learned from each other. Their rivalry doesn’t feel bitter. It feels necessary.
Gukesh brings titles. Praggnanandhaa brings coverage. Together, they cover most of what Anand once did alone.
Maybe that’s the point.
Arjun Erigaisi: The fearless disruptor of the 2800 club
Arjun doesn’t play safe. Ever. Someone once called him a madman at the board and honestly, he didn’t disagree.
Crossing 2800 is not a number thing. It’s a mental border. Only a few people ever live there. Arjun walked in and didn’t looked back.
What makes him stand out is fearlessness. He’ll take risks in positions others would simplify. He trusts his hands. His gut. Sometimes too much. But that’s how ceilings break.
His recent run across classical, rapid, and blitz puts him in a club that includes Magnus Carlsen, Hikaru Nakamura, and Alireza Firouzja. That’s rare company.
Arjun feels less like a successor and more like a disruptor. Anand changed India by winning. Arjun might do it by refusing to behave.
Pranav Venkatesh: The next layer forming
Junior titles don’t guarantee anything. But they do reveal habits.
Pranav’s World Junior win wasn’t flashy. It was careful. Seven wins, four draws, no panic. He knew when a draw was enough. That’s maturity.
He’s part of the WestBridge Anand Chess Academy, where feedback loops matter more than praise. Analyse, accept mistakes, return better. Anand himself praised that part of Pranav. That’s telling.
It took India 17 years to bring the junior crown back. That gap says something. So does the fact that the system produced another calm head.
Beyond the individual: Why India no longer needs one genius
India has depth now. Real depth. Players like Vidit Gujrathi holding the line. Players like Koneru Humpy showing longevity isn’t luck. This isn’t about replacing Anand. It’s about removing the need to.
So, who is India’s next Viswanathan Anand?
Honestly? No one. And that’s fine.
Anand was a bridge. From intuition to engines. From loneliness to teams. From hope to structure. You don’t replace bridges.
You cross them.
Gukesh might hold the crown longest. Praggnanandhaa might win everywhere. Arjun might scare everyone. Pranav might quietly grow into something else.
Anand’s greatest win might not be a title at all. It might be this simple truth. India no longer waits for one genius. It grows many thinkers.
And that’s how legacies really last.