Dear Reader,

This month has been a busy one for political reporters, watching and analysing post-poll developments in States.

But even amid this noise, the alacrity with which the Tamil Nadu government appointed an astrologer, Rickey Radhan Pandit Vettrivel, as Officer on Special Duty (Political) to Chief Minister C. Joseph Vijay evoked amusement, curiosity, and, of course, controversy—although the decision was withdrawn within days amid an opposition uproar and social media criticism.

So why does a film star, whose popularity is at its peak not just in the celluloid world but also in the tough terrain of politics, which he recently negotiated with stupendous success, fall back on the shoulders of a fortune teller? Is Vijay yet to fully realise that fortune favours the brave? What does this uneasy yet so common interface between governance and belief really mean?

In my home State, Bihar, I recall a similar episode from 2017, when the mascot of social justice politics, Lalu Prasad—by then a pale shadow of his past glory—appointed Shankar Charan Tripathi, a Lucknow-based astrologer, as his party’s national spokesperson. As critics accused the Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) chief of turning to superstition to shore up his flagging political fortunes, the boss who had once hogged headlines on questions of temple access and caste rose to the defence of the “Panditji”, calling him a “very good man”, a “very intelligent person”, and “an expert on the Vedas”.

During his long association with the family, Tripathi was reportedly credited with persuading Lalu Prasad to switch his trademark white kurta to green, add a second door to his No 10, Circular Road residence in Patna, shift the swimming pool, and plant a shami tree considered to be auspicious. Reports say that before being appointed to the coveted job, Tripathi had carried out a ritual with five apple branches in Lalu’s house ahead of the 2015 Assembly election, which saw the combined might of Nitish Kumar and Lalu Prasad stopping the Narendra Modi juggernaut in its tracks.

Before that, a baba called Satellite Baba had predicted Lalu Prasad’s return to power in 1995. The RJD chief reportedly threw the Baba out of his house after his predictions about Lalu getting relief in the fodder scam failed to materialise. So much for stars and satellites.

Another baba popular in political circles is Computer Baba, Namdeo Das Tyagi, from Indore. He got the nickname for carrying a laptop and using gadgets, and the BJP government in Madhya Pradesh granted him Minister of State status in April 2018. Within months he had switched sides, campaigning for the Congress, and the Kamal Nath government rewarded him with the chairmanship of a river trust.

There was also a Mirchi Baba—Acharya Swami Vairagyanand Giri—known for performing religious rituals with chillies. He later contested on a Samajwadi Party ticket against Shivraj Singh Chouhan in Budhni in 2023, but there was no spice to his political story beyond that.

The baba of all seasons in recent years, however, has been Baba Bageshwar, aka Dhirendra Krishna Shastri, whose “blessings” have been sought by leaders across parties, including Kamal Nath before the 2018 Madhya Pradesh election. Many eyebrows were raised when BJP leaders such as Union Minister Giriraj Singh, Patliputra MP Ram Kripal Yadav, and Delhi MP Manoj Tiwari turned up at Patna airport to welcome him in May 2023.

Besides babas, politicians believe in various omens and superstitions.

The so-called Noida jinx has long shadowed Uttar Pradesh politics—the belief that any Chief Minister who visits the satellite city will soon lose power. The jinx took root in June 1988, when Vir Bahadur Singh stepped down soon after a Noida visit. Mayawati’s 2011 visit, to inaugurate the Dalit Smarak Sthal, was seen as an attempt to break the myth, but her 2012 defeat appeared to reinforce it. Akhilesh Yadav avoided Noida throughout his 2012-17 tenure, which did not save him from defeat either. It took BJP Chief Minister Adityanath’s repeated visits, followed by the BJP’s re-election in 2022, to somewhat break the spell.

In Gujarat, after the BJP’s electoral victory in December 2017, the swearing-in of legislators was reportedly delayed to avoid an inauspicious period around Makar Sankranti. When a change of guard in Bihar was being speculated in April this year, a newspaper reported that the State was most likely to get a new government after Kharmas, which officially ended with Mesha Sankranti on April 14, 2026, the day the Sun moves out of Pisces and enters Aries—the sign of exaltation. Samrat Choudhary, Bihar’s first BJP Chief Minister, took oath the very next day.

Tamil Nadu itself has seen umpteen instances of political figures, including Jayalalithaa and M.G. Ramachandran (MGR), performing rituals and seeking astrological consultations. Jayalalithaa, in particular, was known to fall back on elaborate yagnas, pujas, and astrological counsel during moments of political crisis.

Vettrivel, the man at the centre of the current row, had close access to Jayalalithaa from 1989. The connection soured after his assurance that she would not be arrested in the disproportionate assets case failed, and she was jailed following an adverse verdict.

Auspicious calculations guided MGR’s swearing-in ceremonies in the late 1970s and 1980s. During periods of illness or uncertainty, family members and aides turned to horoscopes and astrologers for guidance.

Indian Prime Ministers have not been immune either. Chandraswami, a controversial tantrik, was hugely influential during the time of P.V. Narasimha Rao and Chandra Shekhar. His ashram in Delhi’s Qutub Institutional Area was then a hub of political power-broking, where Cabinet berths and political strategies were reportedly discussed. His clientele reportedly extended to British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, the Sultan of Brunei, Sheikh Isa bin Salman Al Khalifa of Bahrain, and the arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi.

Indira Gandhi’s reliance on Dhirendra Brahmachari, her yoga instructor turned political confidant, is well known. Such was his influence that he ran a weekly yoga programme on the state-run Doordarshan from 1978 to 1983.

Even the West has its astrologers and mystics. In the US, after the 1981 assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan, First Lady Nancy Reagan turned to astrologer Joan Quigley to time presidential decisions. The French royal court under Catherine de Medici placed considerable faith in Nostradamus, whose predictions were believed to shape royal decision-making. Bulgaria’s blind mystic, Baba Vanga, had her own cult of believers across Eastern Europe during the Cold War.

But every baba and astrologer has eventually had his fall from grace. Tripathi in Bihar was shown the door after he criticised Rahul Gandhi when the RJD was moving closer to the Congress. Dhirendra Brahmachari’s decline began with Sanjay Gandhi’s death in 1980 and was sealed by Indira Gandhi’s assassination in 1984. Chandraswami was arrested in 1996 on charges of defrauding a London-based businessman. And yet there is no decline in politicians’ dependence on fortune tellers and astrologers.

Politicians clearly mimic the general population’s dependence on mystic messaging. Do they believe they can get rid of all political uncertainty? Or do they want to remove even the slightest risk to their office? Or is it just blind faith?

Write and tell us.

Until the next newsletter,

Anand Mishra

Political Editor, Frontline