Even as the Kerala government and the Lok Bhavan remain locked in a constitutional staring contest over Vice-Chancellor appointments, Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan is said to have invited Governor Rajendra Arlekar to the Cliff House Christmas party.
Published Dec 16, 2025 | 9:15 AM ⚊ Updated Dec 16, 2025 | 9:15 AM
Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan met Governor Rajendra Vishwanath Arlekar
Synopsis: The Vice-Chancellor appointment dispute in Kerala has now turned into a three-way tug-of-war involving the state government, the Governor in his role as Chancellor, and the Supreme Court. Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan’s Sunday visit to the Lok Bhavan is being read as a final diplomatic push before the Supreme Court takes the pen and signs the appointment orders itself. Yet consensus remains elusive.
Kerala politics these days resembles a Christmas crib accidentally shaken by firecrackers: everyone is smiling, candles are lit, but no one is quite sure who is standing where—or who might fall next.
On Sunday evening, some were celebrating their electoral victories; others were busy attacking opponents with crude bombs and weapons; and still others were deep in discussion about Prime Minister Modi’s upcoming visit to the state.
Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan, meanwhile, was at the Lok Bhavan to meet Governor Rajendra Vishwanath Arlekar. The meeting lasted exactly 15 minutes—long enough for pleasantries, short enough to avoid any serious discussion.
Officially, nothing was said. Unofficially, everything is being read into it.
Yes, even as the state government and the Lok Bhavan remain locked in a constitutional staring contest over Vice-Chancellor appointments, the Chief Minister is said to have invited the Governor to the Cliff House Christmas party.
This is Kerala politics at its finest: clash in public, cake in private. Much like the Kerala BJP’s Snehavirunnu politics—arresting nuns and vandalising Christmas cribs on one side, while visiting dioceses and sharing Christmas cake on the other.
Beyond the festive mood, the ruling LDF is confronting a harsher political reality. The local body election results were a rude awakening, and the loss of the Thiruvananthapuram Corporation, particularly significant given that it is the state capital, has dealt a heavy blow to morale, leaving party workers deflated.
Yet Christmas celebrations are on. Stars are being hung and invitations are flowing. Defeat, after all, should not interfere with plum cake. Inside the corridors of power, however, the mood is decidedly less festive.
The Vice-Chancellor appointment dispute has now turned into a three-way tug-of-war involving the state government, the Governor in his role as Chancellor, and the Supreme Court.
The apex court, tired of waiting for a “consensus” that never arrives, has asked the Justice Sudhanshu Dhulia Committee to submit one name each for the technical and digital universities by 16 December.
If that sounds like a school homework deadline, it is fitting, given that this is about universities.
Ministers P Rajeev and R Bindu had earlier tried to break the deadlock, but the Governor questioned why the Chief Minister himself was absent. That absence, it seems, was noted and remembered.
So the Vijayan’s Sunday visit to the Lok Bhavan is being read as a final diplomatic push before the Supreme Court takes the pen and signs the appointment orders itself. Yet consensus remains elusive.
The government wants its recommended names; the Governor insists his choices are “the most meritorious”; and the court, caught in the middle, appears increasingly ready to say: “Fine. We’ll do it ourselves.”
On Monday, Governor Arlekar escalated matters by openly expressing concern over the Supreme Court stepping in.
Citing the University Grants Commission Act, state university laws and the Kannur University judgment of 2023, he warned that court-led appointments undermine the Chancellor’s authority and weaken institutional autonomy.
This public disagreement sits in sharp contrast to the warmth expressed earlier. When Governor Arlekar took charge, Chief Minister Vijayan himself admitted to having a “good relationship” with the new Governor, noting that he was unlike his predecessor.
Which raises the obvious question: if relations are so cordial indoors, why does it resemble a battlefield outside?
Perhaps this is Kerala’s new political culture, where adversaries exchange constitutional blows by day and Christmas greetings by night; where the LDF loses elections, loses the capital corporation, yet still hosts celebrations with impeccable hospitality.
Where the Governor questions judicial intervention, the government questions gubernatorial choices, and the Supreme Court questions everyone’s patience.
In the end, the Lok Bhavan and the Cliff House appear less like rival power centres and more like adjacent stages of the same theatre. The actors argue loudly when the curtain is up, laugh when it falls, and return for the next act.
As Christmas approaches, one wonders: are they really friends trapped in a misunderstanding, or rivals performing cordiality for the cameras?
Either way, Kerala watches, popcorn in hand, as governance turns into festive political satire, complete with stars, cake, and a deadline.
