Last month, a helicopter sliced through the skies of Kozhikode, Kerala, carrying the state’s most eloquent political anomaly — Shashi Tharoor. While fellow Congress leaders, including V D Satheesan, Leader of the Opposition in the Kerala assembly, trudged through the mundane logistics of cars and crowds after the Kerala Literature Festival, Tharoor was swiftly whisked away to Kochi for Jain University’s ‘Future Summit’ that same evening. It’s hard to imagine any other Congress leader receiving such star treatment in Kerala, especially while the party is out of office.
Such is the Tharoor effect. Whether audiences fully grasp his sesquipedalian vocabulary or not, they swoon. This magnetic appeal has led to delicious ironies. During the 2024 Lok Sabha elections, eight-term MP Kodikunnil Suresh — who had once dismissed Tharoor as a “guest artist” in Congress — privately bombarded him with requests to campaign. Similarly, in 2023, Chandy Oommen, son of late Congress CM Oommen Chandy, sought the ex-diplomat’s mediation with disgruntled Church factions during a by-election.
Yet, for all his star power, Tharoor finds himself in a political paradox. Kerala’s Congress landscape has been dominated by the ‘A’ and ‘I’ factions since the late 1970s, later coalescing around the Oommen Chandy-Ramesh Chennithala axis. With Chandy’s passing, the power structure has shifted to a Satheesan-Chennithala tug-of-war, leaving little room for Tharoor’s ambitions.
His political journey in Kerala hasn’t always been precarious. A few years ago, several community-based organisations showed interest in elevating him to a powerful position. But self-inflicted wounds have marred his prospects. In 2023, his remarks against Hamas at a Kozhikode event organised by the Indian Union Muslim League (IUML) — Congress’s crucial ally — struck a discordant note, leading to a cautious distance from the party.
His recent article praising Kerala’s startup ecosystem has further alienated allies. Even his staunchest supporters winced reading it. They believe he celebrated cherry-picked data. And even if he is right, in Kerala’s politically hypercharged atmosphere, where people wear their party affiliations like team jerseys, Tharoor’s attempts at non-partisan commentary strike many as a man bringing a dictionary to a knife fight.
His most recent approach — seemingly forcing his way into leadership — has faced challenges. Following a podcast this week, a newspaper reported that Tharoor spoke of “other avenues, including writing, reading, and speaking” if the party doesn’t require his services. Tharoor has since accused the media house of twisting “an innocuous statement”.
Despite his protestations, his remark did leave many of his ardent supporters wary, especially party loyalists who prioritise unwavering commitment. Yet, there is no denying his considerable credibility among Kerala’s middle class. The paradox lies in Tharoor’s ability to connect with key electoral demographics — youth and women — while lacking the organisational clout he clearly covets.
Within Congress, discussions of a future CM, if the party wins Kerala in the 2026 assembly polls, centre around Satheesan and Chennithala. Satheesan commands respect among current MLAs for his opposition leadership, while Chennithala’s deep community connections and support from the influential Nair Service Society give him an edge. Some whisper of a potential dark horse: K C Venugopal, Rahul Gandhi’s top aide from Kerala. Though he denies it, many believe he could emerge as a consensus candidate because of his Gandhi family connections if the Satheesan-Chennithala tussle becomes unmanageable.
Tharoor himself hasn’t made his case easier. More damaging than his recent controversies, he is perceived as lukewarm toward Rahul Gandhi’s leadership, often pointing out how many of Gandhi’s close associates have parted ways with him over the years. The feeling seems mutual. Venugopal also didn’t appreciate Tharoor contesting against the family’s preferred candidate, Mallikarjun Kharge, for Congress presidency.
Curiously, Tharoor maintains a warm relationship with Sonia Gandhi, evidenced by his Congress Working Committee (CWC) membership — a distinction shared only by A K Antony and K C Venugopal from Kerala. Even Chennithala and Suresh (the party’s Dalit face) are merely CWC invitees.
For now, Congress might offer Tharoor a consolation position. But Tharoor himself seems to be reconsidering his political future. He’s hinted at alternatives: dedicating himself to literary pursuits though he has stopped short of explicitly declaring retirement. Having ruled out joining the BJP — he’d have to eat crow on his principles against Hindutva politics, as he’s said publicly and privately — Tharoor also dismisses the CPM, quipping at a private event once that he never cared much about what a drunk German (Karl Marx) wrote sitting in the British Library. His alternatives seem limited to a retreat into writing and speaking, leaving his political future uncertain.
His latest book, ‘A Wonderland of Words’, cleverly capitalises on his reputation as a vocabulary virtuoso and ends with a promise of more to come. For a man who loves words, there should surely be one to describe his current predicament: all the glamour of leadership without access to the actual corridors of power. Perhaps we should call it Tharoorism — the art of being simultaneously indispensable and inconvenient.
Disclaimer
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
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