Korlai, a tiny village in Raigad, 130 kilometres from Mumbai, is home to barely 270 families of a predominantly farming community, all Catholics. Portuguese is the language spoken in every home though Marathi remains their mother tongue and the language of instruction in the schools their children go to.

“Or rather a version of Portuguese, for the original language has been diluted considerably over the last 400 years now, with a whole lot of Marathi and English words added to it,” says Father Diego Perreira, manager at the Mount Carmel School who has been in Alibaug for four years now and has been closely working with the villagers. “What they speak now is Creole Portuguese, but that too is a one-of-its-kind distinct dialect. In fact, some call it Korlai Portuguese.” And no, nobody in the village can read or write the language.

There are many stories on why only a slice of Portugal got left behind. Residents say it was around 1520 AD when some 10 Portuguese soldiers of the British Army fled to the village and settled here after the Korlai fort was taken over by the Peshwas. They married locally and as their numbers grew, a whole new community came into being.

Perriera says that’s a trifle romanticised. What is more likely, he says, is that the Indian servants of the Portuguese officers who served in the British army came here rather than Portuguese soldiers themselves. “These people were part of the domestic staff of these officers over generations. Hence, Portuguese came to be their spoken language too and they continued with it when they set up homes in Korlai four centuries ago,” says Perriera.

So you have 64-year-old Delphin Martis who cannot read or write but is at home with Portuguese. Then there’s 27-year old Lawrence Veigas, a bank manager, who does all his work in Marathi for the Konkan Society’s bank but speaks only in Portuguese at home with his wife and child. “Outside the village people find it odd at first, but later most seem impressed,” smiles Veigas. “This is our tongue and we are proud of it,” joins in Ruban Valer Rozario, a farmer, as he hums a Latin folk song, Mela Razirio Santacruz.

Word of mouth is how the tradition goes and locals point out that while they sing Portuguese songs at community functions, the food, tradition and customs are all Marathi. “These songs have been passed down to us by our parents along with some folktales in the language. Of course, we do not feel any affinity with Portugal. In fact, many of the villagers do not even know where it is,” says Rozario.

There are some remnants, though, like the European arches and columns in some of the ancient houses along with the pastel shades painted on many of the doors and windows. “Ours is the only pocket in the world speaking this Creole language and we plan to preserve this uniqueness,” says Prashant Janu Misal, sarpanch of the village.

Quite so. There’s certainly a delicious surprise when you knock on a Korlai home and stare at a perfectly Marathi face mouthing: Ki Ke Re, Use Kile te? (Hello, how are you?)