Now I am going to write about Mr. C. Achutha Menon and his role in this tragedy. The reputedly high respect held for Mr. Menon among Malayalis should not be shattered by what I am going to say. That’s not my intention at all. Especially as he is no longer alive, my utterances shouldn’t exaggerate, even by a word. But I cannot hide what he did along the way, in my quest to find out why my son died. Only if I record his role can I be truthful to these notes. So I request all admirers and dear ones of Mr. Menon to pardon the sour memoirs of this old man.

The famous Thiruvullakkavu temple is situated 10 kilometres away from Trichur, on the way to Irinjalakuda. My ancestral home was in front of this temple. On the eastern side of the temple was the house of my brother, Soolapani Varier. He was a well-known Gandhian. I used to sleep in the upper verandah of my ancestral house. Mr. Achutha Menon was very familiar with these places.

One night in March 1949 somebody woke me up at midnight. When I opened my eyes there was Mr. Achutha Menon, tired, and in shabby clothes. He looked baffled. I thought somebody else would be there with him. Those were the days of The Ranadive Thesis in the Indian Communist Party, and the party was vibrant with the rhythm and movements of the period. Mr. Menon, like many other comrades, was in hiding. According to the underground rules, he shouldn’t travel without an escort.

“I am coming from Anthikkadu, running away from the police. They are after me. Somehow you must find me shelter,” he said. 

I was surprised and scared to see the usually stubborn Achutha Menon looking baffled. If he was caught, I was sure, the policemen would kill him. Manhunts by the police were shocking the whole village those days. I thought of what could be done in the circumstances. I was close to the communist movement, and decided not to let Mr. Menon be caught by the police.

My younger brother, Madhavan Varier, and my nephew, K. V. Raman Varier, were there at home. They were preparing for the Secondary School final exam, and there used to be light in their room till very late at night. I called the boys and told them about the seriousness of the situation, then sent Mr. Menon with them to the village of Palazhi, near Pudukkad. That village was far away from Thiruvullakavu. To reach there they had to cross Vallachira village, which was under police surveillance. There were police jeeps going here and there around the village at night. There were policemen in every nook and corner.

I couldn’t sleep until the boys returned after taking Mr. Menon to the shelter at Palazhi. I was burning, thinking of the consequences if the police caught Mr. Menon and the boys…

Madhavan and Raman became close associates of Mr. Menon after that incident. Madhavan even became a messenger for Mr. Menon’s wife, Ammini Amma, who was staying at Kodungallor, near Trichur. We gave shelter to Mr. Menon at the house of my elder brother. Him being a Gandhian, nobody suspected him of giving shelter to the underground communists.

***

I informed my family of Rajan’s disappearance after forty days. Until then, I was not bold enough to face the emotional explosion that the news would create within the family. Moreover, I hoped that Rajan would come back, though this hope defied reality.

After meeting Mr. Karunakaran at Trivandrum, I came back to Calicut and remained disappointed and disillusioned. I was living through these days in memories and dreams, not feeling time wash away. Whenever I felt like meeting my wife I went to Ernakulam, but I was not bold enough to tell her the truth. I secretly called up my younger brother Madhavan, and told him all that had happened. Together we thought of what could be done next.

Mr. R. V. Ramankutty Varier, a cousin of ours, was a prominent Communist Party leader. He was the brother-in-law of our elder brother. My brothers together went to meet him. “I will give you a letter for Mr. Achutha Menon. Please hand the letter to him,” he suggested. Madhavan got angry and replied that they didn’t need a recommendation letter from him to meet Mr. Menon, and came back very disappointed.

Meanwhile, a close associate of Mr. Achutha Menon, Mr. Veliath Balan (better known as V. B. Menon) came back to Oorakam, near Trichur, after a long time in Mumbai. My brother Madhavan met him, and he came to me to find out the details of Rajan’s case before going to meet Mr. Achutha Menon. They left for Trivandrum the same day, and met Mr. Achutha Menon at the Assembly hall there. That was the first meeting my people had with Mr. Menon on this matter. “Rajan is in hiding” was the reply they got from Mr. Menon, the humane communist. Madhavan tried to argue with him, but he stood firm in his opinion. After returning, when Madhavan met me there were tears in his eyes. This treatment by someone whom he had considered an idealist pained him.  

I became convinced that the search would never end, sure that a father’s journey in search of his son is more tiring than the journey of a son in search of his father. Many friends stood wholeheartedly by me, but I was getting lonelier day after day. I walked up the empty inner rooms of my memory, calling for Rajan. I entered into an eternal search, suffocating though it was. With hands pressed together I went to Mr. Achutha Menon, the Chief Minister, so many times thereafter.