Mama Taxi Karaya Lyrics by MS Fernando

I’m a taxi driver
I’m a real ace at picking up a fare and driving off

Who’s that, my friend?
I’m the heart of Colombo, there’s nobody who doesn’t know me
I’m the heart of Colombo, I’m a taxi driver
I’m a real ace at picking up a fare and driving off
I’m a taxi driver, I’m the heart of Colombo
Who is it I don’t know, my friend?
When the film lets out and the crowd pours out
you hear the horn of my car sounding
I don’t know how to cheat a single soul
everyone has a laugh along with me
After ten o’clock I charge double the fare
but for people I know, I never do that
My meter goes ticking away, click after click
some passengers curse me as they climb out

I’m a taxi driver…

To take a sick person to the hospital
to go and fetch the doctor
to get a little job like this done
just leave it to me
Poor or rich, everyone’s the same to me
my service gets done properly
But the moment I spot drunks, my heart jumps
even the trips I make, I make out of fear

I’m a taxi driver..

This is a cheeky little baila number sung in the voice of a Colombo taxi driver, the kind of busy, fast talking city cabbie who knows every lane and every trick of the trade. There is no love story here. The whole song is one character introducing himself and his world, and the fun is in how proudly and how honestly he does it. When he calls himself “the heart of Colombo,” he means he is part of the city’s bloodstream, always moving, known on every corner, the man you wave down when you need a ride.

He paints a quick picture of his nights. The cinema empties out, the crowd spills onto the road, and his horn is already calling for fares. He says it straight: he does not cheat anyone, everyone shares a laugh with him, and yes, after ten at night he charges double, but never to people he knows. That detail is the charm of the song. He is not pretending to be a saint. He admits the late night surcharge, admits his meter keeps clicking up, admits some passengers grumble and curse him as they get out. It is an affectionate, self aware portrait of a working man rather than a complaint.

The last verse turns to the good he does. Rushing a sick person to the hospital, going to fetch the doctor, any odd urgent job, he says just hand it to him and it will get done. Rich or poor, everyone gets the same service. Then the song lands its final joke: for all his swagger, the one thing that scares him is drunk passengers. The moment he spots a drunk, his heart jumps, and he drives off shaky and afraid. After all that bravado about being the heart of the city, he confesses the small human fear that takes the air out of his big talk.

What you are left with is warmth and a smile. MS Fernando built a tiny comedy out of an everyday Colombo street figure, the taxi man hustling for fares, bending the rules a little, helping where it counts, and quietly terrified of the rowdy late night drunk. It is street life set to baila, and its appeal is exactly that it does not try to be anything grander than a likeable man telling you who he is.