Move over Modi, prove Donald's Trump, I hereby confer the honorary "Time Person of the Year" title to myself. After all, to me, life has been so much about time. I try and get up on time. Fill buckets and store water by spending one helluva of time. Brush for some time. Bathe in no time. Breakfast while racing with time. Leave for work on time. Wait for the 8.49 am CST fast that rarely arrives on time. Board the local that’s crowded all the time. Reach office at Indian Stretchable Time. Work during lunch time. Eat during work time. And work until I realize there’s hardly any time. In the evening, I visit the ATM presuming it won’t be peak time. Glance at the serpentine queue and go back in time. Withdraw cash and buy groceries that last for some time. And finally, return Home at, God and Mom alone know, what time. Sahi hai yaar, time and tide wait for no man. Or, maybe tides do? In form of marble and concrete memorials that can breach all the boundaries that a commoner like me can't reach? Shivaji’s Park. Poes' Garden. Marina's Beach.