Oommen Chandy: A remarkable political journey marked by unprecedented continuity and accessibility

Oommen Chandy, or OC as those close to him addressed him, was not a typical politician in the Kerala mould. And there might not be another OC, for multiple reasons

Hyderabad: Oommen Chandy, or OC as those close to him addressed him, was not a typical politician in the Kerala mould. And there might not be another OC, for multiple reasons.

For one, he leaves a political record that could be hard to beat in these times when the shelf life of politicians is short. From 1970, when he first contested to the Kerala Legislative Assembly after becoming quite popular through the Youth Congress and the Kerala Students Union, till July 18, 2023, when he breathed his last, he has always been an MLA. That too, from the same constituency of Puthuppally in Kottayam district. He contested every election since then, 12 of them to be precise. And he won each of them with massive majorities, and has gone on to become either a Minister, the Leader of Opposition or the Chief Minister.

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Twice the Chief Minister, Chandy was different from the usual leader because one could easily gain access to him, almost at any time. He seemed to be on cloud nine when surrounded by the people, always smiling, and listening intently to what each and every person had to say. And that was one factor that made his mass contact programme a huge success. Launched during his second stint as the Chief Minister, the mass contact programme saw him going from district to district, sitting for several hours together, sometimes well past midnight, and receiving petitions from the people directly. The initiative won the United Nations Global Award for Public Service in 2013.

Another factor that made him stand apart was that he never aspired to go beyond Kerala. Even as his contemporaries like AK Antony and Vayalar Ravi, and the younger generation including Ramesh Chennithala and KC Venugopal, went on to become union ministers or hold national posts, Chandy preferred to stay put in Kerala as an MLA, his tactics and diplomacy as a politician often holding together the party, which otherwise was torn by bitter factionalism, and helping it at the hustings more than once.

For the people of Puthuppally, OC or ‘Kunjunju’, as the elder generation called him, was always one of them. Sundays would see him at the Puthuppally Church, not in the front row, but somewhere in the back of the church, sometimes sitting on the floor in one corner, or near the door. For weddings or functions to which he was invited, he would slowly slip into the crowd and stand silently, the sudden realization that the Chief Minister was standing next to you often taking many by surprise.

One could call him even at 2 am with an issue concerning the public, and he would speak as if he was wide awake all the time waiting for that call, assuring justice. For the media too, he would remember most journalists by names, in every district, and would have an answer for every question, whether it was uncomfortable or not, though he had a knack to answer tricky questions.

And it was his standing as one among the people that reflected in his son Chandy Oommen’s post on Facebook announcing his demise to Kerala. Just one line: “Appa has passed away.” And the State went into mourning.