On a day of grand magnificence, King Khosrow Anushirvan adorned his royal throne with fine Roman brocade and suspended his jewel-encrusted crown above an ivory seat. The court filled with Mobads, satraps, and noble lords from Balkh, Bamin, and Karzaban. News then reached the Sun-blessed monarch that an envoy from the Ray of Hind had arrived, bringing ten ring-adorned war elephants, golden parasols, Sindian cavalry, and a thousand camel-loads of rich tribute, seeking audience with the King of Kings.
Anushirvan dispatched a grand honor guard to welcome the foreign delegation. Upon entering the hall, the Indian emissary bowed low in ancient reverence, offering praise to the Creator before laying down treasures beyond measure: pure gold and silver, raw musk, sweet ambergris, fresh aloeswood, gleaming rubies, flawless diamonds, and damascened blades forged in Kannauj. Then, he produced a letter written upon fine silk, alongside a masterpiece of craftsmanship—a board fashioned of ivory and ebony: the Chessboard.
The messenger delivered the King of Hind's challenge: "O Sovereign, live forever! My lord sends this message: If the wise men of Iran possess superior intellect, command them to unravel this silent game. Let them discern the proper moves of the Pawn, the Elephant, the Knight, the Rook, the Vizier, and the King on this wooden battleground. If your sages master this exquisite game, the Ray shall humbly send the tribute and taxes you demand. But if the renowed scholars of Iran quail before this puzzle, let them cease demanding tribute from Hind, for wisdom is far more precious than worldly fame, and those lacking knowledge must yield tribute to the wise!"
King Khosrow examined the ivory and ebony pieces with keen curiosity. He requested a eight-day reprieve, promising to present the solution on the eighth day. The envoy was given lavish quarters, while Iran's foremost Mobads and scholars gathered around the strange board. For days they pondered, testing various arrangements and moves, yet none could decipher the hidden logic of the game. Gloom fell upon the court, for failure meant humiliation before a foreign crown.
Seeing the King's distress and the Mobads' bewilderment, the peerless sage Bozorgmehr stepped forward. With serene confidence, he pledged: "O King of Kings, let not your heart grow heavy. By the power of intellect, I shall master this fine game and illuminate its secrets, proving Iran's wisdom supreme!" Rejoicing at these words, Anushirvan bestowed his blessings upon his brilliant minister.