Written by Thomas Zachariah
It was June 1969, incessant Kerala monsoon. Walking through a dingy auto garage, up a flight of stairs leading to the Kottayam Rotary Club and into a hall, I had my first sight of a then legend-in-the-making — Mary Roy. I gaped, wide-eyed. I had never seen a woman in Kottayam with close cropped hair, chunky jewellery, pairing a sari with sleeveless blouse, speaking the Queen’s English in an institution with a strange, tongue twisting name — Corpus Christi School. As I took my seat in the common assembly hall among the new joinees, my little brain whispered, “Looks like you’re in for a ride.”
It was more than just a ride, as time would prove. It was the beginning of a journey of a new educational order being created in Kottayam, in Kerala, perhaps in India. Where the traditional rote method of teaching was grabbed by its scruff and tossed out of a rustic red brick window. In its place came experiential learning — probing, asking, discovering, both creative and collaborative. Oh, how the little student hearts rejoiced while (some) parents frowned at this strange method.
Along with it came a new world of student engagement, where boys and girls studied together in the same classroom, played sports, ate, danced, acted and travelled together for school excursions to Delhi. Again, students’ hearts rejoiced while (some) parents fumed at this “anarchy”. There was more that came — wrong English pronunciation was not tolerated, especially the difference in the O in “orange” and “ogre”, which was a long-standing challenge for a regular Malayali tongue. Roy was rocking the culture.
When I was in Class IV, the school moved to its own new property in the suburbs of Kottayam. Red brick structures in strange shapes on a hillock. Class X was a circular room, Class V was an odd rectangle, and there were quirky openings in the brick walls (which we later discovered were called “jaalis”). The sports field was in a valley and the basketball court on the precipice of a hillock. Mrs Roy had seen the potential of the terrain, the genius in architect Laurie Baker, and had given him a canvas to unleash his creativity. He did and the students embraced the new design with abandon.
Mrs Roy was the matriarch who loved deeply, nurtured and protected her kin — her students. She knew us personally, unearthed the latent potential in each and opened up new avenues for development. She sparked in me a passion for theatre, casting me as the lead in The Winslow Boy (and thereafter fondly referring to me as her “little Winslow Boy”), a cherished memory.
Mrs Roy was not a nonconformist for the sake of it. She simply walked her talk with conviction. In the process, she came across as intimidating to some, and highly charming to others — and she owned both, unapologetically. Her blueprint for education was ahead of her time and it attracted a brilliant core team of teachers and staff, with many serving longer than normal, with a passion that defied their age. A testament to her enduring vision.
Now in 2025, 56 years later, there are no more superlatives left which have not already been attributed to Mrs Roy. She did it her way and came through with flying colours, leaving a legacy and precious memories. Let it be.
The writer is strategic advisor at Global FinEXPO, and a senior marketing and branding professional
