Four times a week, I go for a 105-minute walk. It’s a three-lap circuit of my green fragment of New Gurgaon that starts slowly. But once I get my rhythm, then I don’t want to stop. It refreshes the body and also spares the mind of the 24/7 assault of the world’s noise, be it about an Islamic State butchery in Afghanistan, lone-wolf terrorism in Europe, or the four-morning nationalist spectacle of Donald Trump. Also, a journalist can’t keep away from social media, the crystal distillation of all human hatred.

The walk is a refuge from cacophonous outrage. It’s just me along the edge of human habitation. Pic for representation/Thinkstock