The World No 3 discusses his next gambit as champion spotter and the state of chess as a sport over tea with Devangshu Datta

Childhood in the Phillipines gave him a taste for generic east-Asian fare, categorised as "Thai food" by most Indians. Many years of living in Spain have led to a weakness for olive oil-based cuisine. He remains vegetarian by preference and a teetotaller, bar the odd celebratory drink.

In this, as in so many other things, Vishwanathan Anand is true to his Tamil brahmin roots. Not that the fare at the NIIT canteen is designed to lead him into temptation. It's standard tea-fare — savouries and cakes, with the usual non-alcoholic hot and cold beverages.

He's not hungry anyway— the jet-lag shows in the 5 o'clock shadow, the hollows around the eyes when he takes his specs off. The last two days have featured epic partying followed by a long flight. Delhi is a stop-over on the way home from Moscow. Home, in this case, being his parents' house in Chennai, not the villa in the Spanish mountains.

The 32 year-old former world champion is still coming down from the high of leading a Rest of the World team to an against-the-odds 52-48 victory over the Russians. "It's incredible! We hadn't met or talked, let alone prepared. The Russians had Kasparov, Kramnik, Karpov, they'd prepared at a training camp (where Peter Svidler busted his leg playing soccer)! But every one of us came to Moscow inspired with this feeling that we were going to do something historic." The celebrations were still on, 30 hours after the final game, when he caught his flight.

At the conference that preceded our meeting, India's first grandmaster announced his commitment to an incredible e-learning project. Recently, NIIT has wired up 2,000 schools across five states; it is starting rollout in a sixth. By December 2002, there will be 2,500 schools with 7.5 lakh-odd students enrolled in state-sponsored e-learning projects.

From January 2003, chess will come bundled with more conventional items on the curriculum. Anand will design the course material, figure out ways to winnow out the talented and coach those potential stars in concentrated fashion.

The numbers are awesome: if just one per cent joins up for the free programme, that's 7,500 children. That's more than the serious chess-playing population of India circa 2002. Scaleability will not be a problem with infrastructure designed to handle large numbers. But teaching so many, designing bullet-proof online play facilities, creating rating systems, integrating engines and databases: that will definitely require plenty of manhours.

Anand knows how it was done pre-technology. He knows about the Soviet Young Pioneers assembly line with its specialised schools, where champions were mass-produced. He understands the technology underpinning the big play sites, and databases. He's an expert on rating systems and their flaws.

"It's going to take every minute of my spare time, when I'm not playing or preparing. Well, it's a good reason to come home more often." Anand always wanted to teach. This has been germinating since 1997 at least, when he mentioned it first as a long-term ambition.

It would have taken eight to ten years without today's technology. Doing this manually would have been inconceivable for the World No. 3, who harbours ambitions of winning the title again. "I'm thrilled to death that it's become possible, while I'm still playing seriously. Once it's up and running, I'll do two annual coaching sessions. That didn't hurt Kasparov or Botvinnik — they retained titles while doing two annual sessions with young guns."

It's ironic, but lucky for NIIT, that 2003 is a blank year as far as title ambitions are concerned. The title reunification initiative launched at Prague this May has run into problems. The business plans are way behind schedule. Anand is definitely out of the first reunification cycle, his aspirations shouldered aside at closed-door meetings. While he won the World Rapid title at Prague, Kramnik and Kasparov lost at the board and brokered deals that kept him out of contention for the 2003 title.

He's never been one for talking "off-the-record". This situation is an exception. He doesn't expect changes in the people or attitudes at the top. The only "official" comment: "Thinking about what happened at Prague is like obsessively analysing a game that's over. I prefer to think about other commitments. Yeah, I intend to play for the title the next time I'm given the chance."

Do those commitments include the World Cup at Hyderabad scheduled to start on October 9? Maybe, maybe not — he hasn't decided yet, despite obvious pressure from the All India Chess Federation (AICF). Kasparov and Kramnik will not be playing at Hyderabad — they're doing million-dollar computer exhibition matches instead. World number 4 and reigning champion Ruslan Ponomariov hasn't signed up and Svidler is nursing his broken leg.

If the rating is too low, Anand can't play. He could lose rating, while winning the tournament — one of the flaws in the rating system. "I wish they had started organising Hyderabad some seven or eight months ago — it's unrealistic to expect the best players to commit at a month's notice."

What is left unsaid is that top-level signups are dependent on prize money and appearance fees, which aren't yet locked in for Hyderabad. Chess professionals balance lucre versus burnout just as carefully as other sports professionals do. Most have pencilled in calendars a year in advance.

"Burnout is a serious issue. Between 1992 and 2000, Kramnik and I got consistent results because we worked out how to conserve energy. (Anand has been ranked in the top three continuously since 1993). Play three hard games… and one quick draw. It's tougher now, we're older, there's more information-overload. It's sickening when you're tired: ideas dry up, you make bad moves and see the errors seconds after you make them."

Computers, according to Anand, are still entertainment and analytical tools rather than serious title challengers. He backs Kasparov and Kramnik to win against two state-of-the-art engines. "Kramnik already has Deep Fritz, ["Deep" is a multiprocessor engine] to practice with: he'll find holes. He's a little out of practice though, and that could mean the odd blunder. Kasparov has the worst possible style for anti-computer play. But unless he's tired, he's favourite too (against Deep Junior). I think he [Kasparov] was very tired in Moscow, his eyes were bloodshot, he was pushing too hard in over-compensation."

Sponsorship is a major issue for chess, like other modern sports. Paradoxically, money for exhibitions has increased exponentially. It's easy to find sponsors for websites, computer-human matches, and rapid play. Anand has benefited even more than other top stars because of his popularity and his skills in rapid play. But classic tournaments have few sponsors, and title matches and olympiads have suffered from a cash squeeze.

Fide, the international chess federation, hoped that becoming an International Olympic Committee (IOC) -affiliated sport would help it find stable sponsorships. In Sydney, Anand and Alexey Shirov played an exhibition match. Since then, Fide has struggled to impose drug-testing and sexual segregation norms that are absurd in this context. Last month, the IOC decided it would categorically avoid affiliating mindgames.

"It's an emotional blow, of course. But it's not as though something concrete is being taken away. I don't think it would have worked — like baseball, you wouldn't attract the best talent consistently." Belly-laugh. "Thank God the dope tests will stop — it's irritating to regulate coffee-consumption and very, very, tough to take leaks on demand!"

Right now, despite the exhaustion, he's bubbling over with enthusiasm. "This can make it possible for small-town India to compete. Harikrishna and Humpy (India's youngest grandmasters, both 15-plus) are small-towners, their achievements are splendid. But comparatively, Hari's development has been slower than Teimour Radjabov, Andrei Volokitin and Sergei Karjakin (three grandmasters in the same age-group). The results, as such, don't matter when you're 14 or 15, but some things need to be learned early".

Anand's first title campaign foundered on Fera (Foreign Exchange Regulation Act). An Indian resident at the time, he needed permission to spend dollars, which he had earned, buying a computer and hiring seconds. He received that permission three weeks before he played Anatoly Karpov in a 1990 quarterfinal match that he lost 2-1. Understandably, he has since had little expectation of official support.

"The Soviets earlier, and now the Ukrainians, benefited from state support. The Ukranians live in embassies when they play abroad, they get free tickets, they get some money. We can't expect this but India's IT superiority could translate into a strong player base."

Somebody asked a crass question at the press conference. "Is it possible that you will lead an Indian team versus the Rest of the World in five years?" Anand grinned that thousand-watt grin. "Well, it's nice to be positive. But it took me five years to progress from beginner to club level. Maybe it can happen faster if there's someone to help." Just maybe — if that someone is the first Asian world champion.