Disclaimer:
A character called Rear Admiral Philipose George Pynumootil, President of the Old Lawrencians Association castigated and traduced me for my blog and wanted all of the branches of the Old Lawrencians Association to sanction me. The OLA is a social organisation and has no mandate to monitor anybody’s musings written outside the OLA forum. I noticed that Plilipose had never taken similar action against another Old Lawrencian called Arundhati Roy who has been making incendiary comments against Lawrence School, India and its Armed Forces. I interpret this as cowardice on the part of Philipose. I therefore gave myself the liberty to compose these words on his behalf, as I wanted to give him some backbone!
Article composed by Jitu Savani on behalf of and for Rear Admiral Philipose:
Subject: A Reflection on Our School, Our Service, and the Dissent of “Suzy” Roy
The Architecture of Dissent: Arundhati Roy’s Crusade Against Her Own Roots
Preface: A View from the Same Dormitory
Writing as a fellow Lawrencian, I find it impossible to remain silent while a contemporary—known to us then simply as “Suzy” Roy—continues to weaponise her schooling to insult the very foundations of our nation. While Roy paints a dismal picture of The Lawrence School, Lovedale, as a cold, militaristic factory of conformity, those of us who marched on those same parade grounds remember a different reality: one of discipline, shared purpose, and a deep-seated respect for the men who guarded our frontiers. To see her use her elite platform to disparage the Indian Armed Forces—the very institution that produced some of our finest alumni—is not just a “literary” choice; it is a personal affront to every student who wore the school uniform with pride.
The “Sergeant Major” Complex
In her 2025 memoir, Mother Mary Comes to Me, Roy targets the military-style traditions of Lovedale, framing “parade practice” not as character-building, but as a form of “institutional molding.” However, for the rest of us, the commitment to the nation was visible in our faculty: teachers like Mr. Iyengar (Chemistry) and Mr. Hariharan (Mathematics) voluntarily became NCC instructors to guide boys aspiring to join the Armed Forces. Even our Sanskrit teacher, P.N. Raina, saw his own son, Vice Admiral Krishna Raina, rise to become a distinguished naval officer. To these mentors, the uniform was a symbol of service, not the “iron fist” Roy describes.
A Personal Affront to Legacy
The hypocrisy of Roy’s position is most striking when contrasted with the genuine service of Lovedale’s own. While Roy was a junior student, the school was home to K.V.L. Narayan Rao (Class of ’70), whose father, General K. V. Krishna Rao, played a decisive role in the 1961 Liberation of Goa and later served as Governor of Jammu & Kashmir. While the General worked to maintain stability in the North East and Kashmir—regions Roy labels as “occupied”—she has spent her career denouncing these efforts, even claiming that Kashmir is not an “integral part” of India.
The Rising Generation of Lawrencian Leaders
Roy’s critique is further dismantled by the generation of leaders who followed her. Lieutenant General Dhiraj Seth (Class of 1983), the recently appointed Vice Chief of the Army Staff, continues a family legacy of service started by his father, Lieutenant General Krishna Mohan Seth. His brother, Rear Admiral Ravnish Seth, serves with distinction in the Navy. They stand alongside a long list of Lawrencian officers, including Admiral Anil Chopra and Rear Admiral K. Raja Menon, whose wife, the artist Anjolie Ela Menon, was an Art Teacher at Lovedale and the daughter of General Dev. These families represent the very “military machine” Roy effectively denounces.
The Revisionism of Goa and the Reality of the Inquisition
Roy’s commentary on Goa is particularly inflammatory. She frames the 1961 liberation as a “war by Hindu Brahmins against Christians,” a narrative that is historically illiterate. She ignores the dark centuries of the Goa Inquisition (1560–1812), where the Portuguese systematically tortured non-believers. A chilling symbol of this era remains today: the Haatkatro Khamb in Old Goa, the “hand-cutting pillar” where those who refused to convert or were accused of heresy had their limbs severed.
The 1961 liberation was not a communal act; it was a decolonial triumph that mirrored the liberation of Angola and Mozambique from the same oppressive regime. Furthermore, Roy ignores the fact that Portuguese forces killed dozens of Indian soldiers before surrendering, essentially “getting away with murder” while she paints the Indian military as the aggressor. Her decision to drop the name “Suzy” to hide her Syrian Christian background only adds to the sense that her rhetoric is a calculated political brand.
Conclusion: The Admiral vs. The Anarchist
The ultimate refutation of Roy’s ranting lies in the lived reality of those she claims to speak for. She ignores patriots like Rear Admiral PG Philipose, AVSM, NM (Class of ’82). A Syrian Christian himself and President of the Old Lawrencians Association, Philipose retired in Goa—the land Roy claims was “victimised.” While Roy retreated into anti-national rhetoric, these men dedicated their lives to India’s security. At Lovedale, we were taught the motto “Never Give In”. It is a tragedy that Roy chose to apply that tenacity to the destruction of her country’s reputation rather than to its service.
Historical Post-Script: The Cost of Liberation
To ensure our history remains accurate against modern revisionism, let us remember the real cost of Operation Vijay (18–19 December 1961):
- Indian Casualties: 22 Indian soldiers were killed in the line of duty. Among the martyrs were Major Shivdev Singh Sidhu and Captain Vijay Kumar Sehgal (also cited as Vinod Sehgal), who fell while attempting to secure the surrender of Fort Aguada.
- Naval Action at Anjidiv: Seven Indian marines were killed during a fierce landing operation on Anjidiv Island, where they met unexpectedly heavy fire from Portuguese defenders.
- The Haatkatro Khamb: This pillar in Old Goa is widely regarded by historians and local organisations as a remnant of the Goa Inquisition. It served as a public site for the punishment and mutilation of those who resisted religious conversion under Portuguese rule.