What makes Achuthanandan’s political legacy towering is not that he lived for over a century, but that for the majority of that time, he remained mentally lucid, morally uncompromised, and politically vigilant.
Published Jul 23, 2025 | 1:37 PM ⚊ Updated Jul 23, 2025 | 1:37 PM
VS Achuthanandan. (X)
Synopsis: VS’s life stretched from colonial subjugation to digital surveillance, from trade unions in the paddy fields to prime-time debates on secularism. Born in a poor Ezhava household in Alappuzha in 1923, Achuthanandan’s early years mirrored the social contradictions of caste, class, and capital that would eventually come to define his politics.
In the vast, often tumultuous ocean of Indian politics, some figures emerge as storm-breakers; unyielding rocks that withstand the waves of compromise, convenience, and co-option. Velikkakathu Sankaran Achuthanandan, who passed away at the age of 101 on 21 July 2025, was one such figure.
A lifelong communist, the last of Kerala’s original cadre-giants, and a moral sentinel in an increasingly transactional political age, Achuthanandan’s life was not just long, but tectonic.
It bent the arc of history, sometimes imperceptibly, at times decisively. To write an obituary for him is to trace the layered story of democratic dissent, of institutionalised idealism, and of a man who, for decades, refused to blur the line between governance and servitude.
His life stretched from colonial subjugation to digital surveillance, from trade unions in the paddy fields to prime-time debates on secularism. Born in a poor Ezhava household in Alappuzha in 1923, Achuthanandan’s early years mirrored the social contradictions of caste, class, and capital that would eventually come to define his politics.
He rose not through privilege or patronage but through an unwavering dedication to the people’s cause. He did not attend college; he educated himself in the factory of movements, strikes, imprisonments, and intellectual labour.
Unlike many of his peers, Achuthanandan did not fashion himself as a mass messiah. He was no orator of soaring flourishes, no manager of backroom deals. What he was, always, was clear-eyed: about the evils of landlordism, the arrogance of neoliberalism, and the moral rot of communal politics.
Even as Chief Minister (2006–2011), he remained a thorn in the side of power, not its ornament. While others turned political office into performance, VS—known by those initials like a stubborn syllable of resistance – made power feel awkward in the face of principle.
Perhaps what set him most apart was his relationship with the idea of opposition. Opposition not as electoral rivalry, but as an ethical stance. He opposed corruption even when it stemmed from his own party. VS opposed environmental destruction even when it meant locking horns with the profit-loving consensus.
He took on powerful industrial interests in the Munnar encroachment case and Big IT in the SmartCity controversy. He brought judicial scrutiny upon CPI (M)’s own tainted ministers and stood by the victims of custodial torture and land grabs. These were not mere acts of governance, but acts of dissent dressed in authority.
But his life cannot be framed merely as a list of achievements. To do that would be to betray his complexity. Achuthanandan was also a man of contradictions, deeply ideological yet infamously stubborn; a Marxist to the core, yet not always in sync with party orthodoxy. In fact, some of the most defining moments of his career were shaped not by opponents but by comrades.
He was expelled from the CPI (M)’s politburo in 2009 for “anti-party activities,” a vague phrase often used in Stalinist grammar to defang dissent. But even in exile, he gained stature. It is rare in Indian politics for expulsion to increase one’s moral capital, but that was VS: a leader who grew in the people’s memory when clipped by the party’s machinery.
What makes Achuthanandan’s political legacy towering is not that he lived for over a century, but that for the majority of that time, he remained mentally lucid, morally uncompromised, and politically vigilant.
In his twilight years, Achuthanandan occupied a unique role in Kerala’s polity, part elder statesman, part living conscience.
Even in silence, his presence unsettled the casualness with which the powerful treated the poor. His image: thin, ascetic, slightly hunched, became iconic not despite its lack of grandeur, but because of it. He was a reminder that public life can be lived, truthfully, and with a spine.
And yet, VS was never sentimental about his place in history. He belonged to that rare tribe of leaders who did not fetishize their struggle but used it to sharpen the struggle of others. His politics of land reform, tenant rights, and literacy were never abstract. It had calluses. It had soil under its fingernails.
For the Left, VS remained both a caution and a guidepost. A caution against bureaucratisation, hero worship, and loss of ground connection. A guidepost that political credibility cannot be inherited or engineered, it must be earned, one field visit at a time, one case file at a time, one unpopular truth at a time.
For Kerala, his death marks more than the passing of a leader. It marks the fading away of a political culture that viewed governance as ethical stewardship, not event management. He was the last link to a generation that built institutions, not just narratives.
It would be a disservice to reduce Achuthanandan’s life into mere electoral binaries. His importance transcends the win-loss columns. He lost elections, lost party positions, and lost internal battles. But in every loss, he claimed a moral victory that outlived his opponents. Few leaders can claim that kind of surplus in public memory.
As India hurtles through an era of hyper-nationalism, corporate overreach, and historical amnesia, the figure of VS Achuthanandan looms as both counter-history and aspiration. A reminder that leadership is not about commanding crowds but standing alone when necessary. That politics, at its best, is a daily act of responsibility, not an occasional performance of virtue.
The tragedy of Indian democracy today is not just the decline of the Left but the loss of its moral vocabulary. Achuthanandan retained that vocabulary till the very end. He reminded us that to govern is not to rule, that opposition is not obstruction, that ideology need not be inflexible if rooted in justice.
Even when removed from decision-making roles, VS never retired from public life. He wrote, intervened, commented, and—above all—remained visible as a metaphor for integrity. In a time when political memory is alarmingly short, he stood as a monument of political patience.
As we bid farewell to “Comrade VS”, we do not just grieve the man; we grieve the vanishing of a certain moral imagination in politics. One that did not fear unpopularity. One who believed that the dignity of the citizen is the first test of governance. One who knew how to say no and mean it.
To write an obituary for VS is to ask uncomfortable questions: Are we capable of producing such leaders anymore? Do our movements nurture resilience or reward compliance? Can we imagine politics as sacrifice, not just spectacle?
VS Achuthanandan did not seek applause. But he deserves remembrance. Not just as Kerala’s former Chief Minister or a CPI (M) stalwart, but as a citizen-leader of extraordinary courage, integrity, and clarity. His name may be abbreviated in conversation, but his legacy cannot be. May he rest in power.
(Edited by Sumavarsha, views expressed here are personal)
