Published Feb 14, 2026 | 3:29 PM ⚊ Updated Feb 14, 2026 | 3:29 PM
A single fish now finds itself at the centre of a larger political irony: can revolutionary taste buds crave premium catch?
In Kerala’s ever-simmering political cauldron, anything and everything could turn controversial. But this week, the debate has taken a decidedly culinary turn.
The unlikely protagonist? A fish.
The controversy surfaced after senior CPI leader C Divakaran shared an anecdote about Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan and his alleged preference for what he described as “A-class fish.” The remark, originally part of a media interaction linked to Divakaran’s upcoming autobiography, has since leapt from memory lane to meme land.
Recounting an episode from 2014, when the Communist Party of India (Marxist) organised lunch during the LDF’s Kerala Raksha Yatra, Divakaran described a meal hosted at the residence of veteran CPI(M) leader Anathalavattom Anandan.
According to him, Vijayan, then the state secretary of the party, was not enthused about the venue and reportedly inquired about the variety of fish served.
When informed that it was tuna — or in another retelling, a modest “chura” (skipjack tuna) — Divakaran claimed the CM-to-be gently pressed the fish, asked, “Is this the fish?” and rose from the table without partaking.
The following morning, he added, the then district secretary allegedly made amends by sourcing a premium seer fish from Palayam market in Thiruvananthapuram at dawn, ensuring the “revolutionary” palate was properly satisfied.
Divakaran insisted his recollection was neither an indictment nor an exposé.
“It was shared in good humour. No need to stir controversy,” he said, maintaining that he stood by his version while urging critics to view it as an interesting slice of history — not a character certificate.
But Kerala’s political waters rarely stay calm.
General Education Minister V Sivankutty quickly dismissed the claim as an embellished anecdote.
“There is no A-class or B-class fish. People have preferences. That’s all,” he remarked, describing the Chief Minister as a spartan eater far removed from gastronomic fussiness.
In a witty counterpunch, he hinted that perhaps it was the storyteller, not the subject, known for relishing a hearty meal.
Adding to the rebuttal, Jeeva Anand, son of Anathalavattom Anandan, categorically rejected the narrative.
In a detailed note, he portrayed Vijayan as a gracious guest who appreciated whatever was served.
He fondly recalled how his mother had cooked for stalwarts such as EMS Namboodiripad, BT Ranadive, KR Gouri Amma, and VS Achuthanandan, each with their own famously simple food habits — from bland coconut-milk stews to finger millet porridge.
Ironically, the fish tale gained traction soon after Vijayan’s speech at a Young Innovators’ Meet organised by Kerala Development and Innovation Strategic Council, where he spoke of childhood deprivation, recalling days when he packed humble rice bread or went hungry to college, choosing a white shirt and dhoti so no one would detect his modest means.
Thus, a single fish now finds itself at the centre of a larger political irony: can revolutionary taste buds crave premium catch?
Or is this just a classic case of memory adding masala to history?
In Kerala, where even lunch menus can spark ideological debates, the episode proves one thing beyond doubt — sometimes, the smallest fish can make the biggest splash.
