Bruno Da Costa - The Three Fingered Slap

Tales From Yesteryear Series.

"YOU BOY!!!" barks Da Costa visibly agitated, pointing his finger in one direction but seemingly looking in the other. "Stand up!" Three boys on the left side and three boys from the right side of the classroom immediately stand up at attention, each one of them including myself from the last row of benches. "No, not you." My friend Ravi Jaising just ignores him like he's not even in class." Only Anish Goel, the boldest one with the thickest bullet-proof rhino hide with Kevlar reinforcement sits back down in a loud cacophony of his unmistakable laughter (A sound that, to this day, still reverberates through the hallways of my mind and the school). The others are scared stiff of the consequences of disobeying. "I am taking to you." Three more boys stand up, for a total of eight. As you guessed and confirmed from the photograph below, this guy is seriously cock-eyed. "You with the glasses, come here." Now we're getting somewhere. Both myself and Narayan (Bob) Rupani approach the towering teacher. The others breathe a sigh of relief and sit down chanting a quick prayer. "You lamboo (tall one) go back." Narayan quickly stops in his tracks and runs back to his seat. I am doomed. There's a loud chatter the entire class can hear. It's my knees knocking. "You Boy. You're the one I've been calling. Why were you talking in class?" Before I can conjure up a sorry excuse for a response, I am ordered "Take off your glasses." I take off my glasses and prepare myself for the inevitable. Three fingers come and touch my cheek, then back off and suddenly a loud "SMACK!" The elbow never moves. I have received the famous Da Costa "LAFFA" from the former boxer turned mathematics teacher. "Go back and don't talk in class again." It's over as quickly as it started. I am safe. Or so I think. I turn around and start heading back, smiling tongue-in-cheek realizing it could have been worse. I've seen him give two or three generous ones instead of just one. I've heard him take students for a ride in his car and scare the daylights out of them. Worse, it can be on his motorcycle. I've heard all kinds of horror stories. Suddenly, the dreaded "Wait!" I freeze in my tracks and turn around to face him, eyes closed. "What did your mother pack in your dabba for your lunch?" He wants to have his cake and eat my lunch too.  If I mention I have mutton sandwiches with chutney, biriyani, butter chicken and naan, he's going to steal it. Why doesn't he chow down on Rajeev Sabharwal's lunch instead of mine? I pull a fast one "Sir, my mother was not well, so she gave me leftover boiled karela bhaji, doodhi ke kotfe, stale daal from last week and baingan bharta without spices." I have to make it as unappetizing as possible. It's either that or I'm going to starve until dinner time. He's disgruntled by my response and mumbles a curse word, but fortunately doesn't call my bluff. "Tell your mother to pack something nice next time like mutton sandwiches with chutney, biriyani, butter chicken and naan. Growing boy like you requires proper nutrition. Now go." I was right. With my back facing him, I hurry back to my seat past a smirking Nihar Modi and a gloating Girish Bhandarkar and swear never to crack jokes in class again, making a cock-eyed face mimicking the Da Costa look and winking at my desk partner Narayan. We'll never change. After all we are LLBs. Lords of the Last Benches!

Bruno "Dicky" Da Costa and the Three Fingered Laffa
(Click for larger view)

I decided to do this photograph as a tribute to the beloved teacher at St. Xavier's High School. Nobody would be foolish enough to model it for me. It is an acknowledgement of respect to one of our most celebrity teachers and in no way should it be considered derogatory. The photo comprises of two photographs, one with me looking one way and another with me looking the other way without moving my head and then cloning one eye in. I towered over the camera just like Dicky would have over a student. The fingers were as close to the lens as possible making them look larger and more menacing. I am trying not to laugh here. My hair is still naturally dark brown. The grey in my hair comprised of a generous spraying of antiperspirant with powder. I didn't possess a checkered shirt circa 1970 and so I borrowed my wife's blouse (you can see that the buttons are female). You have to do these things you know for the right effect.

"Dicky" as he was affectionately called, was loved by everyone because he was funny, but he was equally despised for obvious reasons. I hold no grudges against him. The above story was just that, a fairy-tale. But these things did happen in reality to many of my friends, including myself. The times were different, the place was different. Whether it was right or wrong can be debated for another three generations. Some things you forget in life, such as what you had for dinner last night, what suit you wore at your wedding, but a true Xavierite never forgets the 10 glorious years he spends at St. Xavier's High School. Da Costa retired from Xavier's after many years of teaching generations of young children at my beloved school.

I could do a similar tribute to all the titans at my school including Mr. Raphael, Father Jose Luis Aran, Father Bulchand, Father Emanuelle Tasso and Father Lancy Rodricks and each one of them would bring an outpouring of emotions from me and my friends. Here's to you Da Costa. Have a great day!

Capture Your Life & Dictate Your Legacy.