Vijay’s Astrologer as OSD: CPI(M)-CPI Silence vs Atheist Rhetoric

This isn’t just “one odd appointment.” It’s the kind of decision that tells you how power actually works when the cameras are off—and it should bother anyone who thinks government is supposed to run on reason, not rituals.

The news making the rounds is simple on the surface: the Tamil Nadu Chief Minister, Vijay, has appointed his astrologer as an OSD. And the claim goes further: this astrologer isn’t just holding a title, he’s now deciding policy. That last part matters, because there’s a big difference between a politician privately checking a horoscope and a state quietly letting astrolgy sit at the policy table.

If you believe the report as shared publicly, this is a hard swing toward something I can’t respect: treating public office like a personal household, where your trusted inner circle gets official power because they feel “right,” not because they’re qualified, accountable, or even visible to the public.

And then there’s the part that’s making people angrier than the appointment itself: CPIM and CPI are part of the Tamil Nadu government, and they’re reportedly silent about it. These are parties that lecture people about atheism and rational thinking. Their whole brand, for decades, has been that society should stop bowing to superstition. So if they’re “absolutely mum” when astrolgy gets a government seat, that’s not a small contradiction. That’s a billboard saying: our principles are for speeches, not for coalition math.

Now, to be fair, there are two possibilities here. One: the “policy-deciding astrologer” angle is exaggerated, like social media often does. Maybe he’s just an adviser, maybe the influence is informal, maybe the OSD title is more symbolic than real. But even in the mild version, it’s still ugly. Because an OSD isn’t your family friend. It’s a role tied to the state. If you give that to your astrologer, you’re telling every civil servant, every subject expert, every department head: expertise is optional, access is everything.

Two: it’s true, and the astrologer really does shape decisions. If that’s the case, it’s worse than hypocrisy. It’s a threat to how modern government is supposed to function. Policy is not a personal life choice. It decides who gets funds, which projects get approved, which officials get moved, which communities get heard, which crises get treated as urgent. If those calls start getting filtered through a horoscope, the state becomes a casino where only the well-connected know which table the dealer is standing at.

Imagine you’re a small business owner waiting for a license renewal. One file moves fast, another gets delayed. Officially, there are rules. Unofficially, someone whispers, “Not an auspicious time.” What do you do with that? Argue? Appeal? To whom? A process you can’t see is a process you can’t fight.

Or say you’re a district official trying to plan flood prevention before monsoon season. You want action now—clear drains, strengthen embankments, pre-position supplies. But the “right date” becomes more important than the right preparation. When things go wrong later, nobody writes in the report: “We waited because the stars said so.” They’ll blame some lower-level officer, or the weather, or “unexpected circumstances.” Superstition doesn’t leave fingerprints. That’s part of why it spreads so easily in power.

This is also why the CPIM and CPI silence matters. When parties that claim rationalism refuse to challenge this, they normalize it. They teach their supporters that there are two rulebooks: one for public talk, another for staying in government. And once you accept that split, it doesn’t stop at astrolgy. Today it’s an astrologer with an OSD tag. Tomorrow it’s “godmen” as informal gatekeepers. Then it’s appointments based on loyalty signals instead of merit. The whole thing slides, slowly, into a system where belief and access beat competence.

Some people will push back and say: plenty of leaders consult astrologers in private, it’s cultural, it’s harmless, stop being elitist. I get that argument, and I even agree with part of it—private belief is private. If a politician wants to check their horoscope before a wedding or a housewarming, that’s their life. But when private belief becomes public authority, it stops being “culture” and starts being governance. And governance has to answer to everyone, including people who don’t share the belief.

There’s another uncomfortable angle too: even if the astrologer is brilliant at reading people, building trust, calming a leader down—none of that belongs inside an official post unless it’s transparent and accountable. Because the minute you make it official, you’re paying for it with public legitimacy.

What I want to know is simple, and it’s where this whole story stands or falls: will anyone in this government—especially CPIM and CPI—publicly draw a line between private faith and public power, or will they keep quiet because staying close to the chair matters more than what they claim to stand for?