Matharpacady: Exploring Mumbai’s hidden East Indian village and its living heritage

In Mazgaon, one of Mumbai’s oldest neighbourhoods, the city’s noise fades at a narrow turn. Team Indulge Express arrived around 5 pm, with winter light casting a soft, muted glow. The harbour line and traffic became a distant hum, and for a moment, the city seemed to pause. We had entered Matharpacady, a hidden East Indian village in Mumbai, where heritage homes and quiet lanes preserve centuries-old traditions.

What we experienced at Mumbai’s hidden East Indian village, Matharpacady

Before walking the lanes, I (a Bengali member of the team) had already fallen into an identity puzzle. I had heard often that the “East Indian community” is a central part of Mumbai’s cultural fabric, and my heart did a small victory dance. Kolkata culture thrives here too? Wonderful!

The excitement lasted three seconds.

Because in Mumbai, “East Indian” has nothing to do with geography. It refers to a Roman Catholic, Marathi-speaking community living along the western coast for centuries. Meanwhile, I, born in the actual eastern part of India, grew up being called East Indian. My logic protested: If someone from Kerala is Malayali, from Tamil Nadu is Tamil — and these states collectively form South India — then how are people living in Maharashtra “East Indian”?

The history clarifies it. The name “East Indian” was adopted in the late 19th century by the original Roman Catholic inhabitants of Bombay and Salsette to distinguish themselves from Goan and Mangalorean migrants arriving in the city. It also signalled loyalty to the British East India Company, under whose rule they held certain rights. These were the earliest Christian subjects of the British Crown in the region. So while they share Catholic faith and some Portuguese influences with Goans, the East Indians are indigenous to Mumbai, with a unique language, cuisine, and traditions.

I had also absorbed the Hindi-film stereotype — all Catholics must be Goans: fish-loving, music-making, yellow Portuguese homes, guitars. I wasn’t fully wrong, but reality was richer. Once I understood who they truly were, I knew I had to see their world for myself.

The village radiates a gentle, old-world calm. Most houses are painted in soft, fading yellows, their wooden staircases and narrow balconies outlined in the dimming winter light. Cats slip between shadows. No curious faces peer out of windows — Matharpacady lives its life, unbothered.

Two families anchor its story. The Leao family, in the century-old Lion’s Den, mark their lineage with lion motifs and history. The Lopes family are known for something whimsical: the musical saw, a rare tradition of turning a carpenter’s tool into an instrument of melody. These histories are stitched into the everyday fabric of Matharpacady.

We explored the village via a guided walk with Shantanu Dey of Photowalks Mumbai. Matharpacady no longer entertains uninvited outsiders; content creators and reel-makers have caused enough intrusion that residents now guard their privacy. Yet, once inside respectfully, the calm is palpable — a balm over Mumbai’s constant noise. Most residents are in their 50s and 60s; children have moved elsewhere. Empty houses bring developers, and the fear of slow erasure hangs over the lanes.

Visiting the Lopes home was a highlight. Because Shantanu knew them personally, the elderly couple welcomed us warmly, showing an old video of their previous generation playing the musical saw. Aunty shared something that stayed with us:
“Earlier, we always kept our windows open. Cross-ventilation was so good we never needed fans or AC. But now, content creators film us without asking. People have lost basic decency. So we keep windows shut. And without ventilation, we need the AC.”

It takes one polite May I? — and the door to a living history opens. They welcomed us because we approached with respect.

December brings hope. Christmas is when Matharpacady opens its homes, porches, and hearts. Lanterns glow, hymns float through the lanes, and warmth spills from every yellow-painted house. It’s not a spectacle; it’s a tradition rooted in centuries of faith and community.

If you want to experience Christmas differently this year, head to Matharpacady. Walk slowly, observe quietly, breathe deeply. Respect the homes, ask before taking photographs. You won’t just receive a yes — you’ll receive a smile, a story, and a glimpse of Mumbai’s oldest living soul.

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