Going, going...

Kalpana Bindu

Rekha and Albert D'Souza are chatting away with their neighbours from the porch of their house, located on the top of a hill overlooking the Arabian Sea. They are conversing in a language that’s all Greek to everyone, except of course to them and roughly 240 other families in the neighbourhood. For the record, this small Catholic community speaks a dialect called Creole, a strange mix of Portuguese and Marathi! This small community, clustered around the three-century-old church at upper Korlai village in Raigarh district of Maharashtra, 135 kilometres south of Mumbai, is the unique bearer of the Portuguese legacy and Marathi culture. 

The imprints of the Portuguese rule on the cultural landscape of Korlai are clearly exhibited through ‘Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church’ and the crosses in every nook and corner of the village. 

Popularly known as Portuguese or Kristy or Nau lin, Korlai Creole Portuguese (KCP) is amongst the several vestiges of the Portuguese era in India. KCP, the primary language of conversation within families and community and the first language for the children of Korlai, has a history that dates back to the 16th century. One might wonder how did the cultural heritage of this predominantly farming Indo-Portuguese community stand the test of time for more than three hundred years. Also, what kind of socio-cultural and linguistic transformations the people of Korlai went through were instrumental in the evolution of this language.  

Professor Joseph Clancy Clements, who has done extensive research on Creole, explains that during the early 16th century the Portuguese had started establishing fortified settlements in India. This led to a large scale domestic slavery, and the Portuguese soldiers started engaging in multi-partner relations with lower-caste Hindu women. By the mid century, a lot of Portuguese soldiers had settled down in India, marrying these women and converting them to Christianity, thus giving birth to a new generation of Indo-Portuguese Catholic community.  The Korlai Fort and its surroundings was one of such settlements. Gradually, Creole emerged as a lingua franca between the Portuguese men and the native Marathi speakers. In 1740, when the Portuguese were defeated by the Marathas at Korlai, a handful of Indo-Portuguese families settled on a nearby hillock, and continue to live till date at the upper Korlai village, keeping alive their culture and language. 

Different narratives 

In Korlai, there exist a variety of narratives about the history of Creole. Many youngsters feel the language came directly from Portugal. On the contrary, many elderly claim it came from Goa. “Some families speaking this language came from Goa and settled in Korlai,” says an elderly Veronica. Interestingly, the factors that contributed to the sustenance of KCP are in contradiction with the factors that led to its origin. KCP originated as a result of the need for social interaction between people from two different communities who were later joined by matrimony. Conversely, Creole evolved and survived because of the social and geographical isolation of this Indo-Portuguese community. Prof. Clements suggests that strong barriers created by the caste system, religion and occupation led the Indo-Portuguese community to remain isolated from other communities residing near Korlai. It has been a close-knit community and marriages strictly happened within the community, with the exception of Portuguese-speaking Christians from Vasai, Daman & Diu and Goa. Further, this community solely relied on agriculture for sustenance, unlike the nearby coastal villages where the fishing-related activities were the primary livelihood option. Even today fishing is considered a menial job by the inhabitants of upper Korlai. Albert D'Souza says:  “Our ancestors had purchased land in nearby areas, since then we are into agriculture only. Fishing is done by Kolis and others, not us.”  These factors resulted in the continuous cultural transmission from one generation to the next. 

Winds of change

Things have started to change, though. Urbanisation and aspirations of the younger generation are posing a threat to this centuries-old way of life and cultural transmission. Despite the dependence of the majority of households on agriculture, better access to transportation and good roads are paving the way for the younger generation to aspire for better education and employment opportunities outside Korlai. The recent trend of inter-community and inter-faith marriages, non-existent till the end of the last century, is further threatening the exclusivity of this community. Exposure to Marathi in a local school has hastened the linguistic shift from KCP towards Marathi. Today, the majority of the religious ceremonies are held in Marathi. Till 1960s, Portuguese was the official language of the Church, but now even the Parish priests speak either Marathi or English. For those settled outside, the lure of learning English and urban lifestyle act as disincentives to speak KCP and maintain traditional values. Such developments are creating a more diverse cultural and economic base in Korlai, where the functional use of KCP is gradually losing its relevance. 

Holding the fort

The older generation, though, is making efforts to conserve its culture and language. It is ensured that a woman from other community/caste marrying into a Korlai household adheres to the community's religious and cultural practices, which includes learning KCP. “Every time my grandchildren visit us, I teach them a few words and sentences of Nau lin,” says Phelomena. Children from the new generation who are being raised outside Korlai get exposed to the language only during their short stays during vacations, and the short-term learning easily fades away from their memories. The younger generation is keen that their cultural heritage, KCP in particular, be preserved, but the pressing needs of their career leave them short of time and ideas to take any initiative.  

Gone already in Kerala 

Short-term solutions to keep KCP alive may provide a ray of hope. Simultaneously, they also pose a big question mark on the future of Creole. The Portuguese Creole of Cochin died in 2010 with the death of William Rozario, the last fluent speaker of this language. It had come into existence in the last 15th century from the contact of Portuguese with Malayalam. So do we really assume that a similar fate is awaiting this dialect as well? Efforts made by the likes of Prof. Clements have brought KCP and other Creoles to the world view, yet their work is primarily an area of interest for academicians and linguistic scholars. Since KCP is not an officially recorded language, in order for it to survive for many more centuries, more concerted efforts involving government agencies and linguistic experts are required. If the mothers at Korlai continue to speak KCP with their children, we can hope that some years down the line when children from next generations visit this small, quaint community, we may again find a new generation of Rekha, Anthony, Sweenal, Phelomena, Albert or Thomas conversing with each other in KCP.