Common man's leader, VS dictated terms to party even in death

In the end, nothing else mattered, but only the man that he was and the life he lived. People waited for him in the rain, at night, on streets and by the roadside for hours. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t heard from VS Achuthanandan or seen him in the past six years. It didn’t matter that he had long ceased to be a politician and rather adorned the head position of administrative reforms commission; a misplaced moniker for a hardened comrade. 

When his party charted out his funeral procession and thought it would end by nightfall, it wasn’t like they failed to gauge the stature of the man. Even senior leaders couldn’t help but admit a miscalculation when massive public turnout messed with their immaculate procession schedule. The partymen would also know that it wasn’t the first time VS toyed with his own party, and why would it be any different in death?

In the theatre of politics, a master actor would enact scenes with elan till the denouement and then the audience can clap. For VS, it seemed like he was deprived of the final act; by design. In the life of VS, destiny had always been his trusted ally. He had thrived on people and the acts he did for them. He earned his due in the end from his people, his very own followers who had always adored his theatrics.

That’s why it just didn’t matter to them that they hadn’t heard or seen him for a while. Many of the people who had come from far to see VS on his funeral procession hadn’t known him closely. They hadn’t been friends with him. It didn’t bother them that this was one man who had willed his way in the party just the way he pleased. He could make a Chief Minister probable into a nobody, and on other days, he became one, out of the void. Only VS could have plucked a minister out of a cabinet for the party's service and told everyone that it was fine. In 1996, VS suffered a shocking defeat in Mararikulam in the assembly elections. Suseela Gopalan was endorsed as the candidate for the Chief Minister post. However, VS intervened and ensured that E K Nayanar, who had not even contested the polls, was chosen over Suseela Gopalan. Pinarayi Vijayan left the post of Minister for Power in 1998 and became the CPM state secretary, banking on support from Achuthanandan. 

As for the people, they were the beneficiaries of something bigger, like the case of Aikara Vava, a 75-year-old man with a weary face and teary eyes. He came from Changanassery to VS’s house at Punnapra. The queue was so long that he stood aside, but he wouldn’t leave without seeing him.

“He was a human made for other humans. How else can I put it?” Vava asked. In 1969, Vava, a resident of Parel, who was employed in a paddy field, lost his house. Vava, along with his friends, had demanded better wages. They had clashed with Congress workers. It grew so bad that they burnt their houses down. “I was an accused in the case. I had to move to a shed with my parents. VS came to our village, and he had others build new homes for us. Without him, we would have ended up without a roof above our heads. I still live there,” said Vava.

VS was more a doer than a giver and his deeds accrued interest in due course of time. In her late 80s, Ammukutty stood beside a lottery vendor and waited for the cortège to arrive at Ambalapuzha. “I never knew him personally. I had learnt from my father that VS was a great man. My father used to tell us that our inferior caste meant we were treated poorly and VS would tell him not to be ashamed of anything. I knew of that man from my father,” she said.

It was the same VS who could understand the complexities about import duty on Titanium dioxide and how it would impact a Kerala-run public enterprise. Raghudas, a retired KMML employee took a break from looking after his daughter and her baby and lined up to see VS and when asked he said, “This man just about understood anything. He could easily digest why we had to deal with import duty or it would affect our own initiatives,” 

All through the night when the line of vehicles and the floral-draped bus carrying Achuthanandan’s mortal remains squeezed their way through a human wall, there were also people who watched him from a distance. It was as if they grieved his loss but still didn’t feel close enough.

It wasn’t just the party men who mourned him, but people who don’t even remember if they had ever voted for him. “You can say so many unfair things about VS, but here was a man who cared for certain sections of people. I am not sure if we have got any such politician left,” said Joy, who came from Idukki.