nothing ever changes

I heard the gorgeous Indian woman
in a beautiful orange sari talking to her friend
dressed in a neat powder blue business skirt-suit
about how ridiculous it was to change the name of Bombay
to Mumbai and I felt better.

I thought it was just me,
alone,
feeling stupid with all these new-old names
for the cities of the Indus.

I watched her friend get into a rickshaw
as she walked to the train station.

the sari and the suit
the rickshaw and the train

and me, a perfect stranger
flying back to Paris
where everything changes
but the name stays the same.