Bikers at Barakhamba

It's 3 am on Easter Sunday. A dozen bikers have assembled at Delhi's Barakhamba Road and I watch fascinated as they put their stunts on display. One by one, the bikers zoom down the deserted street balancing their killer machines on one wheel rather than two.

One daredevil spins around, executing a bike pirouette of sorts with his face a few inches from the road and his arms flailing in the air. Another loses balance but regains control just as the bike ploughs into the median. The biker dismounts with no apparent sign of injury. Like most of his gang, he isn't wearing a helmet.

Half-an-hour later, the last of the bikers vrooms away into the dark. There are no traces of blood on the road, no wailing ambulance sirens and no policemen in sight. I assume it's been an uneventful night.