Thiruvananthapuram: As Kerala mourns the loss of its last revolutionary colossus, V.S. Achuthanandan, a long-forgotten yet astonishing chapter from his early political life has resurfaced one that reads like cinematic fiction but is etched in the raw truths of a colonial-era jail cell. In what is now being hailed as one of the most dramatic turning points in the personal history of the legendary leader, VS was once believed to be dead while in police custody only to be rescued by an unexpected savior: a petty thief named Kolappan.
The incident took place in the early decades of VS’s activism, when he was actively organizing agricultural workers in Kuttanad and confronting the oppressive feudal and colonial order of the time. Arrested during one such protest, VS was thrown into a local lockup a dark, claustrophobic cell where pain and punishment were routine. The young comrade, seen by the authorities as a dangerous agitator, was reportedly beaten mercilessly. So severe was the assault that he collapsed, unconscious and bleeding, his body motionless on the cold stone floor.
Believing him to be dead, the police officers on duty decided to quietly dispose of the “body” a grim tactic reportedly used at the time to erase the evidence of custodial brutality. But fate had other plans.
Inside the same lockup was another prisoner a thief by the name of Kolappan. He was known among the locals as a repeat offender, a man of the shadows who had little standing in society. But what unfolded that night shattered all notions of virtue and vice. When Kolappan noticed the lifeless body of VS, he sensed something was wrong. Moving closer, he realized that the man was still breathing faintly, but alive.
With sheer presence of mind, Kolappan sprang into action. He reportedly used water to rouse VS, screamed for help, and refused to let the police dismiss him as dead. His intervention forced the authorities to reconsider their plan. Ultimately, they allowed VS to receive basic treatment a decision that, knowingly or unknowingly, preserved the life of a future Chief Minister.
The significance of that single act of humanity cannot be overstated. Had Kolappan not intervened, V.S. Achuthanandan’s story may have ended in anonymity, buried under a false custodial death. Kerala’s political landscape might never have witnessed the uncompromising voice that reshaped land reforms, stood up to corporate power, fought for the rights of the oppressed, and brought environmental justice to the fore.
This incident also blurs the lines of morality, revealing how, in moments of crisis, it is often those from the fringes of society who reveal the deepest sense of compassion and courage. Kolappan, the petty thief, became the quiet architect of a destiny that would inspire millions.
As Kerala prepares to bid farewell to VS with full state honors, this extraordinary episode resurfaces not just as a footnote, but as a powerful reminder of his vulnerability, resilience, and the deeply human story behind the revolutionary icon. The image of VS bloodied, broken, and breathing thanks to a thief is a testament to both the brutality he endured and the miracle of his survival.
That night in a nameless cell did not just save a man it preserved a movement. And in that single moment, Kolappan, the faceless prisoner, unknowingly became a chapter in Kerala’s political history.
VS Achuthanandan is no more. But stories like these breathe life into his legend reminding us that history is often shaped not just by grand speeches and mass rallies, but by hushed acts of mercy in forgotten corners.