A 26-year-old man died last week on a city road. He wasn’t a celebrity or a politician. Just another face behind the tinted visor of a two-wheeler, racing against time: the ubiquitous delivery rider, one of the invisible army rushing against time, hunger, and traffic to bring us our cravings on demand.He was on his way to deliver food, the kind we order without thinking, with thumbs and impulses: greasy, packaged, indulgent. His wedding was just around the corner. Life was beginning. But he died; the police said, "Riding on the wrong side." Case closed?
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