I think about bikers a lot, in the wee small hours. They have a habit of zooming down desolate streets at 2 or 3 am, when the rest of us are trying to sleep. They do this on bikes that have modified silencers, for reasons known only to themselves, because disturbing the peace makes them happy. The saddest thing about this isn’t the damage caused to the mental health of millions in our crowded city; it is the sense of resignation with which we accept it. It’s as if we know we cannot expect to find peace even at night.

Another thing I think about is the default volume settings at which we operate in our daily lives. We scream at watchmen and grocers, shout out orders at fast food outlets, and yell on buses and trains when we need to step off. Much of this makes sense, given our inability to be heard amid the cacophony of a metropolis, but it’s strange how many major cities around the world don’t compel their residents to raise their voices the way we are constantly forced to. It says a lot about who we are as people.