Ajayan
On October 21, 2016, Sitaram Yechury was to deliver the keynote address for the Sri Narayana Guru memorial lecture in Muscat, the capital of Oman. The event was organized by the Kerala Wing of the Indian Social Club there.
Politically, it was a pivotal moment for Yechury's party, which had only recently ascended to power in Kerala under the leadership of Pinarayi Vijayan, barely two months prior. The air was thick with tension as, just two days before, one of its key Ministers EP Jayarajan,had resigned in the wake of nepotism charges, casting a shadow over the fledgling government.
Yechury was hosted at the home of a Club top office-bearer. His schedule had him addressing Indian journalists before the evening’s event. As his gaze fell upon this writer - someone he had last encountered in Kochi during his tenure as chairman of the parliamentary standing committee on transport, tourism and culture - surprise flickered in his eyes. Upon hearing that this writer now shifted to Oman, Yechury’s lips curved into a knowing smile, and with a glint of irony, he quipped, “Ah, the Gulf - where so many of you Malayalis inevitably find your way."
The media conference was just half an hour away, but in the quiet moments of a personal conversation, a question was posed to Yechury: had he flown directly from Delhi? With a wry smile, he responded, “How could I? I had to make a stop in Alappuzha to visit that young man – Comrade VS Achuthanandan - on his 93rd birthday.” The memory of VS leaving the 2015 party meeting in Hyderabad early, only to return later to congratulate Yechury on assuming the role of party general secretary, was gently recalled. Yechury paused, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes, before saying, “I had planned to visit Comrade VS at his home, but he made the journey to the party office in Alappuzha instead - something he shouldn’t have done. He denied me the honour of greeting him at his own doorstep.”
The mood seemed to shift, leaning towards something more intimate. Yechury, with a glance towards the gathered guests, made a quiet exit, excusing himself under the pretext of needing a smoke, and hurried upstairs. He motioned for this writer to follow. Once on the balcony, the air thick with unspoken thoughts, he suddenly exclaimed, “What’s gotten into you people in Kerala? It took an eternity to convince the leadership that EP Jayarajan had to go. Two precious days—wasted. There are certain principles a communist must uphold, and I had to fight tooth and nail to defend them.” The conversation drifted into darker waters, touching upon the deviations creeping in and the growing difficulty of holding steadfast to those ideals. Yechury’s thoughts wandered again, back to VS, to the quiet struggle of a man battling to keep those very principles alive.
The conversation lingered, spiraling deeper into musings of deviation and the fading echoes of forgotten principles. Once the last curl of smoke disappeared, Yechury descended, ready to face the media. His responses were veiled, cryptic in their delivery, yet laced with an almost ironic praise for the party’s State leadership. He lauded its "swift" action against EP Jayarajan, solemnly assuring that principles and ideals would remain unsacrificed.
As the evening shadows lengthened and Yechury prepared to step onto the dais for the memorial lecture, he paused and turned back. “What was that commotion about EP and some flag post?” he asked this writer. The story unfolded - how EP had forwarded a temple committee request to obtain teak from the forest for a flag mast. Yechury’s brow furrowed and visibly unsettled he asked. "But why? And for a temple, of all things." There was a moment of quiet disquiet in his tone, as if principles long held had been gently shaken. Before parting, he made a quiet request, “Stay in touch - message me first, then call.” But now, the phone lines no longer reach that rare, unapologetic Communist, leaving only echoes of conversations past.
