Bombay Mix

In the state of Maharasthra you could drive faster,
with rickshaws that sometimes had a smiling driver;
he remembered the colonial Briitish were now long gone,
did they smile when recalling the Romans left their land?

Names had changed, statues removed, perhaps Gandhi approved,
the goddess Shiva had many arms which only hurt when she moved;
she could have directed the traffic, sent them in all directions,
maybe to the caves on Elephant Island with doubtful intentions.

Ranjit and I played squash, they say that he never showered,
perhaps he didn't want anyone to see any of his 'thing,'
better than me, he had an orange juice in the colonial bar,
legacy lived on, over The British Sporting Club, they had a star.  

Fortunate I wasn't a punkah wallah holding a large fan,
or even ferrying passengers in a battered rickshaw van.