The picture is from a bridge on the way to Kappad. It is artlessly out of focus and I was probably breaking more serious rules stopping over the bridge and taking a picture (than the rule-of-thirds-and-tilted-horizons). All I can tell you is (that) the gradients were as insane as expected.

The evening tints itself into the night sooner these days and I start late at 5:30; the ride is an hour (or sixteen buttery smooth kilometers) long, in good (as in almost no-) traffic and when the sun sets around 6:15 on regular days. By the time I get to this (picture-situation-above) it is already ISO60000 lighting and getting noisier and I resort to sunken-cost-thinking to keep pedalling. The beach is empty (save for a couple of couples and a late-evening-gathering-of-bros and the volunteer lifeguards inspecting the groynes for traces of selfie-takers-with-good-night-mode-endowed-cameras and alcohol-related intentions [deadly combination, that, on an artificial wall extending a good length into the evening retreat-monsoon sea]) and not many engines are running to pepper an otherwise good sea-wave-static with misfiring pistons. I record some sea-silence then give up when the bros decide to walk past discussing relationship troubles. (I have nothing against relationship troubles; ninety-nine-problems, etc. But that over sea-noise makes for a shoddy ASMR bit after.)

The sky is clearer and starrier than (even) my nostalgia-tinted-recollection of how clear and starry the night sky in remote (-ish) parts of Kozhikode is. It isn’t an average kinda clarity—the sky is clear and tinted green-to-orange in colours that would be illegal in a design foundation course from this end to that end and all around. Whatever is left of the moon is bright enough to drain the few solar-street-lights trying hard to keep up with the falling light. The edges of the sea glisten in silvery reflected moonlight bits. I move closer to the edge to double-check if it is a school of fish taking diving lessons. I think of taking a picture to show off later, and I do, only to realise night-mode on the phone means other unspeakable things. (Despite the inherent snobbery, I catch myself in the act of taking phone-pictures—panoramas of square subjects even—too often these days.) Lying down with the new aggressive™ helmet[1] on, I count the same stars many times over and decide it is better just to watch out for stray crabs trying to burrow new bases into my Kurta-folds. A couple of confused-crabs-crawling-over—you down, this whole lying-on-the-beach-looking-up-at-the-sky business starts to lose its charm.

The ride home is mostly eventless. It is a night so low on traffic, cresting a granny-gear-climb (there are at least three on the route, depending on how out-of-breath you are and how thicc the tyres) almost always rewards one with a kilometer long stretch where it is nice to coast and let the bicycle take you wherever it takes you. I think I understand some of the Punjabi kids in Gurgaon at some meta level now, zigzagging over asphalt on a Friday night in their open-top Audis. (Part of the fun in coasting over a low gradient is in going even more aero and pretending you have TT bars on.) Portions on the way back are so silent (shout out to ULCCS!) the Schwalbe Silentos are the only sources of notable noise over crickets and freewheel. Their naming is a road-stud-faced lie. The one-minute (more like thirty seconds) stretch through the banana orchard is not in season and is an eerie wasteland of free-standing plantain-support-poles.

Rides alone in the night—not solely because I prefer it that way; because I have no friends… to ride with—are a mix of tension, eerie clarity on life etcetera, worrying when the headlight[2] is going to run out of juice because you failed at adulting and recharging stuff when stuff needed recharging, wondering where you left the Staedtler mechanical pencil, etc. It is problematic when you’re riding to get away from too much clarity, etc.

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1: I got this one because the other, more sedate commuter helmet gets too hot riding to work. Because the aggro™ makes me go faster even when presiding over a traffucked junction. Because it is way more noticeable and aero unlike the last one (a brick, a sizeable one, sideways, with a huge sail to top things off, in comparison). I keep wearing it lying down because I have no clue where I can prop it up without getting sand allover places where sand has no business getting allover. Because it was awkward to lie down and hug the helmet on my chest and look like a confused sea otter in action.

2: NiteRider replaced my Swift-450 with a -500 no-questions-asked. I love how this unfolded: the USB bit inside failed in an year-and-then-some; I read their lifetime replacement policy and left the thing with BoatRider; they replace it a couple of weeks later and call me up to go collect the new one. (Would I have preferred repairing this? Did I have the tiny soldering apparatus even if I could manage the tutorial-watching? Yes, and No.) The 500 is bright-as-hell and warms your hands when pretend-riding TT-style over the bars.