Thiruvananthapuram, Feb 9 (NationPress) The political landscape of Kerala is often characterized by ideological and class struggles, yet this week it has been caught in a swirl of controversy revolving around a lunch setting, fish types, and differing recollections involving none other than Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan.

The catalyst of this uproar was seasoned CPI leader and former state minister C. Divakaran, who casually recounted a past "event" that has since simmered into a heated debate: the moment Chief Minister Vijayan allegedly walked out of veteran CPI-M leader Anathalavattom Anandan's home upon discovering that his preferred fish—seer fish, known as the priciest and most “A-class” fish in Kerala—was absent from the meal.

Divakaran stated that the lack of the desired fish, supposedly replaced by tuna, was unacceptable.

He asserted that the Chief Minister departed before lunch could foster any class unity.

This remark, delivered almost in a storytelling manner, sparked outrage online, not due to Kerala's shortage of significant political issues, but because it involved a leader from a party that has traditionally advocated for simplicity, austerity, and working-class values.

After all, a missing seer fish isn’t exactly a concern of the proletariat.

Divakaran has since sought to mitigate the fallout, claiming that his comment was not intended to stir controversy, while firmly standing by his account, stating it was based on personal experience rather than political fiction.

Conversely, Jeeva Anandan, the son of the late Anathalavattom Anandan, categorically disputed Divakaran's assertion.

In an extensive Facebook post—part political memoir and part culinary history—he contended that meals in their household have always been modest, shared, and unchallenged.

He recalled that leaders, including E.M.S. Namboodripad and E.K. Nayanar, consumed what was offered without complaint, preference, or objection.

He further stated that Vijayan had dined at their home once, finished his meal, exchanged friendly remarks, and left with no fish-related incident.

This nostalgic post aimed to dismantle the notion of selective eating by invoking a communist ethos where food waste is frowned upon and complaints are unthinkable.

With no photographic proof of the lunch menu and no remaining seer fish to confirm the tale, the reality now drifts somewhere between memory and folklore.

What remains clear is that Kerala has, once again, transformed a political dispute into a conversation about fish—whether premium or proletarian.

In a state where even lunch can become a matter of ideology, perhaps this was inevitable, raising the question: is seer fish still making its way to the Cliff House, the official residence of Vijayan?