Yesterday, Kerala bid farewell to Velikkakathu Sankaran Achuthanandan, fondly called ‘Comrade VS’, who passed away at 101 in a Thiruvananthapuram hospital. A titan of Indian communism, his life was a saga of relentless struggle, unyielding principles, and a deep-rooted bond with the masses.
For over eight decades, VS was the heartbeat of Kerala’s Left politics, a man who rose from the muddy fields of Punnapra to the corridors of power, yet never lost the rustic simplicity that defined him. Born in 1923 in Alappuzha’s Punnapra village, VS’s early life was steeped in hardship. Orphaned at 11, he dropped out of school in Class 7, stitching clothes and weaving coir to survive. It was in the coir factories that a 16-year-old VS found his calling, stirred by the fiery words of P. Krishna Pillai, Kerala’s pioneering communist. By 1938, he was organising agricultural workers in Kuttanad, his first steps in a journey that would reshape Kerala’s socio-political fabric.
A lesser-known detail: during the 1946 Punnapra-Vayalar uprising, a brutal police crackdown left VS so badly beaten—his foot pierced by a rifle bayonet—that he was presumed dead and nearly buried. A fellow prisoner’s sharp eye spotted faint signs of life, saving him for a destiny that would span a century. VS’s legacy is inseparable from the Communist Party of India (Marxist). As one of the 32 leaders who split from the CPI in 1964 to form the CPI(M), he was the last surviving founder, a living link to the era of Stalin, Mao, and Che Guevara.
His rise through the party ranks—Alappuzha district secretary in 1957, state secretary in 1980, Politburo member in 1985—was marked by a dogged commitment to Marxist ideals. But what set VS apart was his ability to marry class politics with mass appeal. His speeches, delivered in a colloquial Malayalam drawl laced with biting sarcasm, drew thousands. He wasn’t just a leader; he was a performer, a magnet for crowds, and a nightmare for political satirists who struggled to mimic his unique cadence. As Chief Minister from 2006 to 2011, VS was a paradox—a dogmatic communist navigating a neoliberal world. Critics within his party accused him of being out of touch, even factionalist, when he publicly clashed with comrades over ideological drifts.
Yet, it was this very stubbornness that endeared him to the public. He championed causes others shied away from: wetland conservation, transgender rights, better pay for nurses, and the free software movement. In a little-known move, VS pushed Kerala to adopt Linux and open-source tools in schools and government offices, saving crores in licensing fees and fostering digital freedom—a vision far ahead of its time.
His anti-corruption crusades, like exposing land grabs in Munnar, earned him the tag of ‘people’s watchdog’. Even political rivals, like IUML’s Sadiq Ali Shihab Thangal, admired his integrity, noting how he lived his communist values even as Chief Minister. But VS’s life wasn’t without scars. The Punnapra-Vayalar bayonet mark on his foot was a physical reminder of his battles; the emotional toll was heavier. Removed from the Politburo in 2009 for criticising the party line, he faced internal snubs, including being denied the CM’s post in 2016 despite leading the LDF to victory.
Yet, he never wavered. “For VS, ideology wasn’t a belief—it was a lived experience,” said CPI(M) leader Brinda Karat, calling him a “warrior for the poor”. His personal life was equally grounded. Despite his stature, VS remained tied to his roots, visiting his modest Velikkakathu home in Alappuzha until health failed him post-2019. He gifted his sister Aazhikutty new clothes every Onam, a small gesture that spoke of his warmth. Survived by his wife K. Vasumathy, son V.A. Arun Kumar, daughter V.V. Asha, and grandchildren, VS’s family life was as unassuming as his politics were fiery. Kerala mourned him yesterday with a public holiday, his body lying in state at Durbar Hall before a final journey to Alappuzha for cremation with full state honours at Valiyachudukadu cemetery—the resting place of Punnapra-Vayalar martyrs. Tributes poured in, from PM Modi to Shashi Tharoor, who called him a “giant” whose simplicity won hearts across party lines.
Actor Manju Warrier’s poignant tribute captured his essence: “He walked into the hearts of the people with that scarred foot.” VS Achuthanandan wasn’t just a leader; he was a movement. In an era of fleeting loyalties, he was a reminder that conviction can endure a century. As Kerala’s red flags fly at half-mast, Comrade VS’s legacy burns bright—a beacon for those who dare to fight for the voiceless.