If you are reading this, pause. Take out a sheet of paper and sketch three squares. There are no rules — just three squares. Now put that aside and continue reading.
There are so many shapes in the world: triangles balancing on their edges, circles rolling without end, and polygons unfolding into patterns both simple and complex. But among these, geometric shapes have always carried a certain mystery, a hidden order. But one particular shape has left Vinita Sidhartha, founder of Kreeda, restless; her mind circling it night after night. She calls it her “problem child” — a puzzle that refuses to be tamed. Its name: The Three Nested Squares.
Years of exploration have only deepened her fascination, and she, in turn, fascinated an intimate gathering in Chennai, on August 20, at an event hosted by INTACH for Madras week, along with Kreeda.
For over two decades now, Vinita has devoted herself to researching, designing, and sharing games rooted in India’s cultural heritage. Many of these have been revived by tracing temple floor carvings. Vinita jokingly remarked that her “superpower” was rolling on temple floors — not in anga pradakshinam for divine favour, but to uncover the ancient etchings of games. So, when someone told her that she must use her “superpower” and check out the carvings underneath the famous butter ball in Mahaballipuram, her “problem child” presented itself.
“Underneath the butter ball, where I couldn’t even get my cellphone, were evidence of games etched. Now nobody could have gone down there, where their hands can’t even reach, and carve games to play. This told me something exciting: the games etched there could have been played before the butter ball came to be, which could have roughly been before the 11th or 12th century,” she said. Among the two games found there — one completely visible and the other one sitting partially underneath the ball — was the game of Dahdi or The Three Nested Squares.
Dahdi is a traditional board game that is a slightly more complex version of the X and O game we all once played on the back of our notebooks. In Dahdi, each player gets nine pieces. Players take turns placing and moving their pieces to form a row of three, and each time they do, they can remove an opponent’s piece. The game ends when one player can’t move or is left with only two pieces.
After Aadu Puli Atam, Dahdi, Vinita believes, is perhaps the most commonly found game etched into temple floors, with carvings in at least two dozen Chennai temples, and many more in Tamil Nadu. The carvings of the Dahdi board were even found at the archaeological site of the ancient temple complex at Salavankuppam, which the 2004 tsunami unveiled. Her quest led her to finding the game at one of the places she had least expected to find it at — the JNU campus — miles away from Chennai. Even further away, she found it in ‘The Book of Games’ (Libro de los juegos), housed at the Library of the Monastery of El Escorial, near Madrid, Spain. The book, commissioned by King Alfonso of Castile in 1283, refers to Dahdi as ‘Mills’.
These findings led her to explore the origins of the game and its inspiration. Her friends then pieced together a few connections. One pointed out that the nested squares resembled temple plans — be it tanks or temple campus, they follow the three nest square principle. And then, Egyptologists informed her of how pyramids too, follow the concept of nested squares. On one of her ground works in Odisha, she learnt of the Kalachakra Mandala — a sacred Buddhist diagram symbolising time, cycles, and the universe — which also holds the three nested squares in its mandala form. “So, did this game emerge from these symbols or architectural plans? Or did it not? More specific to our location, why did Dahdi, once so widely played here, lose its popularity? Could kingship and politics have played a role?” As she raises these questions, she invites anyone to join her quest. Perhaps, it could help us better understand the history of our city and its games. For games hold great significance.
Now return to the piece of paper you set aside. Did you draw three nested squares? If so, you belong to the rare 0.01%, says Vinita, for most people never think to draw squares that touch or overlap.