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.

Royal Indians - Butter Chicken and Lamb Vindaloo

Royal Indian Moghlai Cuisine is popular the world over and especially so in our home. I am not about reveal every intricate technique of how to prepare these incredibly full-flavoured dishes on my blog, but I shall disclose all the secret the ingredients. Ready with your pencil and paper? The Murgh Makhani has chicken in it and the Vindaloo has lamb in it. Now that we have the secret ingredients out of the way, you can enjoy the photos and savour the e-aromas.

Murgh Makhani or Butter Chicken is probably the most beloved of all India dishes, arguably superseded in fame only by Tandoori Chicken or Mutton Biriyani. Like all Moghlai cuisines it has its roots deeply intertwined in Persian cuisine. There aren't many Indian restaurants that don't prepare some version of Butter Chicken. Sadly, commercialization has taken it's toll on this famous dish and many restaurants serve heart-wrenchingly substandard versions of the dish, so much so that it can be it unpalatable. Any restaurant worth its salt should be able to prepare this heavenly, creamy indulgence with relative ease, although the version that involves preparing tandoori chicken first infinitely multiplies the time required to make it.

Murgh Makhani (Butter Chicken), made with the softest organic chicken breast tenderloin, San Marzano tomatoes and paste, Costa Rican ginger, fresh local garlic, Kashmiri chilies, Spanish paprika, Peshawari kasuri methi, fresh cilantro, heavy cream, freshly roasted Indian cumin, Spanish saffron and Kerry Soft Irish butter. Exquisitely served with fresh garlic buttered naan from the grill. Noritake Queen's Platinum Collection dishes adds elegant grandeur complementing the dish.

Shahi Murgh Makhani - Butter Chicken

If you aren't agonizing just yet for not being invited, then I present to you Australian Lamb Vindaloo with Saffron Peas Pulav, Tatzagi chutney and fresh cucumbers. Spiceeeeee. This grandest of all dishes is considerably more complex to master and deservedly so. An art form, its extravagant magnificence will humiliate French cuisine. If you think cooking is a chore and you don't have at least six to eight hours to invest in its creation, this dish is not your cup of teaand you shouldn't attemp it. Preparation and technique should be meticulous and short cuts considered a cardinal sin or else the results will be unforgiving. There are no accidents! But execute it with patience, love and care and food connoisseurs shall be rewarded with a dish that Emperor Shah Jahan himself would have traded his beloved wife Mumtaz Begum along with the Taj Mahal for just one bite. Yes, It's that good. This dish commands the respect of butter chicken. Don't go looking for it in just any restaurant. Id Mubarak to all my friends.

A tip: In India this dish is actually cooked with goat meat. Therefore, many Indians find the strong flavours and aromas of readily available New Zealand lamb to be uninviting. If you live in the western hemisphere, goat meat is hard to find. Australian lamb is not as fragrant as New Zealand lamb and serves as a great substitute for goat meat. Significantly more flavourful than goat, I certainly love New Zealand lamb best.

Lamb Vindaloo

Food is about sharing with your family and friends. On both occasions I invited my American friends to grace our dinner table with their presence. Needless to say, they were most delighted. now, go share something special you love to make with someone extraordinary in your life. Happy cooking!

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The Mummy of the Masai

Hi, This is one of my favourite photographs. I had taken this Mummy photograph in May, and written about it to one of my friends, so I'll take the short-cut and post it here with a few updated thoughts. Some readers may object to the language.

This mummy photo was not even on my to-do list. But I have had this mask sitting next to my bed for many years since I was attending Ole Miss. For the record, the mask originates from South Africa or Kenya and was given to me as a gift by my father about 20 years ago. It had been above my head where I sleep for many years. The name of the mask is "Masai". As I have always told people "The spirit of the Masai protects me from bad dreams and evil women." The Masai did such a great job in college, that in fact he kept ALL women out of my bed, not just the evil ones. Bad Masai, Bad! Terrifying dreams did occur occasionally. (Laughing).

Back to the photo. So all of a sudden a couple of days ago, I run into the Masai, and immediately yelled "Photo op!" This couldn't be a self portrait. I am too fat and too hairy to be a Mummy. There was no question in my mind that Rajeev was the person for this job. Point blank he refused. I used reverse psychology on him, and told him he was too chicken for the job. That, a $2 bribe and a new Yamaha Trumpet convinced him. I also told him nobody would see his face. He finally agreed. Here's was my skinny specimen with no hair. A bandage wrapped mummy was right out. That was too mainstream and stereotypical, and nobody would know there was a real boy inside. I had to show skin and bone. Take a look at his shoulder bone, ribs and skinny arms!!! Look malnourished, right? This kid eats more than I do.

The eyes too, had to be present. This was not a dead mummy, but a Mummy that came to life as soon as his slumber was disturbed. And then bang, his eyes opened. That is the moment that photo is supposed to be taken, just as the offender opened the coffin earlier having violated the sacredness of the tomb. The lighting had to be perfect, with dark and bright areas. I chose a half lit face to show the mummy coming from the dark underworld to the bright living world.

Rajeev could not have shot this photo of me as a Mummy, as he had to stand over me, point the camera straight down, not use the tripod, not move a muscle and then shoot. The kid can barely control my camera even when it is on the tripod!!! The light had to be coming from where it was or else you would see the shadow from my legs standing over him. The beauty of this shot is that it came out exactly as I envisioned. And it was all done in 3 shots!!!! One shot to check the light and exposure, and by Toutatis, I got it right the first time. By now, Rajeev was pissed off that this heavy mask was on his face and he had to balance it on his nose, as it kept sliding off, Therefore, I couldn't shoot for 15-20 minutes anyway, as he threatened to leave. If he left, no mummy shot ever!!! So I take the second shot. I thought everything was in, but the tip of the mask at the top was cut off. Too bad. Again, I this was shot with a 4 megapixel camera, so no room for error or cropping (I have a 12 MP now). I also had Nisha (very reluctantly) holding a flashlight blasted into his eyes so they were visible, reminding Rajeev every 10 seconds, he was a fool to do this photo shoot. I quickly realized the eyes were not going to show (even without looking at the photo). That means the mummy was going to be dead and useless. Just another photograph shot at the museum. But this mummy had to be alive and come back from the dead, just as I opened the coffin for the first time. Rajeev was ready to leave. I told him, "Fine, take the mask off", so he was comfortable, and then I shot him one more time without the mask with the exact lighting. (you guessed it - so I could photoshop his eyes and the direction of the catchlight in his eyes remained true to the original mummy shot making it more believable. Three shots is all it took. It took minimal amounts of processing, I cloned the eyes, and converted to B&W, as this mummy's casket was opened in the early 1900s when most mummies were discovered and there was no colour film. The casket shadows came from making Rajeev lie down on a pillow in a cardboard box. Neat huh?

What did my lovely wife think? "I cannot believe you are going to do this terrible thing to my poor little innocent baby boy." She saw him lying on the floor and knew what was going on, but she has since refused to look at the photo. "I DON'T want to see it!!!"

Flashback!!! The night before the photo shoot, I also asked Sairah (my wife) if she had any really big gold earrings. She said what for? I said "Well, I just need them for this and that". She showed me a couple; she did not have any that I liked. I asked Rajeev take off his shirt, lie down, wear the mask and see how it fitted. Everything seemed perfect. Then I told Sairah, the gold was to cover his "royal nipples" in case they were visible, since this photo was not about child porn. "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DO THIS TO MY POOR LITTLE INNOCENT CHILD!!!!" Fortunately, the mask had covered his nipples.

I could go on, but as you see, a seemingly mundane shot takes a great deal of vision and planning to come out the way I want it to. An evil mind at work I suppose. People just don't get it. You are not going to walk into my studio and walk out in 30 seconds with a photograph. BTW, I just found out, Walmart sells a photoshoot, a 8x10 and a bunch of 4x6s for under 8 bucks. It is my intention to not compete with Walmart or Sears. I am deliberately not going to give you a 10 minute photo shoot. That's what Walmart is for. I want to give each person I photograph a legacy shot. A photo that you want to leave for your descendants and children and their children. Good or bad, like them or not, I am fanatically proud of my photos. If you don't find them to be controversial or unique, go elsewhere. There are a lot of great photographers around.

I recently also shot a macro shot of a single "Cheez-It"; let's not even get started about how I took that one, and how much time I spent thinking about it. It wasn't a lot, but it wasn't like bang and we're done. Fortunately, the Cheez-It didn't complain too much about having to sit in one spot, and it became a tasty snack along with a few more of its siblings. I hope you had fun reading this as much as I had writing it. I would love to hear your comments about this one.

Disclaimer: No children were harmed or mutilated in the production of this photo.

Take care.

Capture Your Life & Dictate Your Legacy.

Pani Maharaj - Swami at the Ganges

Pani Maharaj - Swami at the Ganges
Shot by my son, Rajeev Chachad

This self-portrait is one of my favourite photos. It is not a true self portrait as it was clicked very reluctantly by my son. I bribed him $5 to do it. It does define me as a person of Indian origin, so much so that I decided to make it part of my logo in addition to the Marathi Devanagari script font.

The Ganga. The holiest river in the world. The most polluted river in the world. The Swami is performing "Surya Namaskar - paying homage to the Sun" whilst bathing and meditating at Benares, on the banks of the Holy Ganges. The time is early morning. The sun is rising to his right.  You can see the waters flowing in the background. This photo was shot in my studio.

The idea of shooting a saint or sinner (take your pick) bathing in the Ganges has been swirling on and off in my head for decades.  Ever since I unknowingly dispersed glasses of refreshingly cold, dangerously nauseating, potently toxic Ganges water to my friends after a game of cricket, soccer or "aba dhubi" around 1978. You see my father had gone to the Ganges and filled up bottles of water and brought it home.  He decided to store it in the refrigerator along with bottles of drinking water. Well, nobody told me!!! Since our household was one of the few that had a refrigerator with clean, filtered, boiled and ice-cold water, I invited all my friends over for refreshments and served them - you guessed it - the toxic Ganges water!!!  Later, my father questioned me about where the holy water was, and the deed was revealed.  Fortunately, nobody died or even fell sick as a result.

Back to the photograph.  The photo was shot using a single source of light to my right and front, with a white card to my right to simulate ambient light which may reflect off the waters or diffuse light from the sky. I wet my hair to show that I had dipped myself a few times under the surface. Having set everything, I had to transform my mood from being myself, directing my son about when to click the shutter, into a swami face that exhibited no expression or an expression of  serene peacefulness in a deep meditative trance within 12 seconds. I practiced this several times but I had no idea what I would look like. Finally, I went and shot the waters of Lake Morton in Lakeland, Florida and gently introduced them around the Swami.  I even had the brilliant idea of having a human corpse floating in the background for authenticity, but I was sternly warned by family members not to do so for fear of embarrassment of living in the same household as me. The end result and effort was very pleasing.

On a historical note, Pani Maharaj was a freak, quack, crooked Swami in Bombay when I was growing up who whispered tantric mantras into jugs of water and the drinker of this elixir was miraculously cured of all illness and maladies.  All at a price; most of his clientele were rich, affluent Indian ladies with too much time and money on their hands. It was rumoured that the problem he fixed most frequently was infertility as most of the women who visited him regularly ended up getting pregnant!!!

Dhanyavad and Namaste!