I have read with intense interest your article of 6.7.04 entitled ?Collège Bhujoharry ou la vitalité du chêne?. The main reason being that in my mind and heart I have always cherished the idea that ?The Bhujoharry College belongs to me?. I cannot but somehow try to elaborate on your article by adding the following that I term, ?the other side of Bhujoharry College?.

?Le Bonhomme?, as you rightly pointed out, was a selfless man with the interest and ability of fulfiling his vocation which was to educate his pupils. To start with an autobiographical note, I remember when I joined the Bhujoharry College in Form I in January 1951. The ?Bonhomme?, that was Sir Alex Bhujoharry, used to periodically make his visits in classes, reprimanding those pupils he suspected of not making enough effort in their studies. Sir Alex used to preach to little boys as we were and with a look of childish fright, we used to stare at his walking stick that he always took along with him. We then gradually realized that his stick was not meant to frighten us.

As all boys proceeded to Form V, we began to be aware of the fact that quite many of the mature pupils of Form VI won the English Scholarships, both boys and girls (the girls department was down the same street that is St.-Georges Street. In 1955, one girl and two boys, or was it three boys) won the English Scholarship. In 1956 yet another three (one girl and two boys) won the English Scholarship. With these six to seven scholars, Bhujoharry College got the following reputation : ?Ça College Bhujoharry, li tir laurea par grap?. Here is an example of record breaking in scholastic achievement.

Another aspect of Bhujoharry College is what concerns Mr Alex Bhujoharry himself. I can only explain by a description of the Sixth Form Class of which I was myself a student. Mr Bhujoharry used to start classes himself as early as seven or earlier in the morning. All the Sixth Formers were in class at that early hours in the morning, before the official school opening time which was 9 h 30. Mr Alex Bhujoharry was a specialist in the teaching of Metaphysical poetry of Andrew Marwell, John Donne and others belonging to the Metaphysical School of Poetry. Sir Alex was erudite and together with him, we learned to enjoy the rhythm and unusual and far-fetched ideas and feelings of the poets, that he read aloud for us. Our teacher possessed the art of making our appreciations soar high above into the kingdom of the skylark of Shelley. In other words, Sir Alex used to ?hold? us by the hand to lead us into the realm of an unknown kingdom that is that of poetry. With the same gist, we students used to glide into the heart of English Literature through the pages of John Milton?s Paradise Lost or Geoffroy Chaucer?s Canterbury tales, to mention only these two. Thank you Sir Alex, for opening for us a window into the thrill of literature. I can still hear the echo of your voice at the crossroad between St.-Georges and Pierre-Poivre Streets.

One day, I remember, when I shook hand with Sir Alex Bhujoharry in the late sixties, and asked him : ?Comment ça va ?? He replied : ?On vieillit.? I know that until the end of days ?on vieillit toujours? but the imprint left behind often lives for ever. Not many will deny the truth of it. For me, the imprint is a kind of foundation I inherited from Sir Alex Bhujoharry as a teacher of English prose and poetry.

André WAN CHOW WAH Associate Professor