WHEN TIME BECOMES YOUR CO-PILOT

A 250km Journey Through Mumbai's Madness

- Words By: Drumil Modi Photography By: Siddharth Dadhe

6:02 AM.

That's when my phone buzzed with the kind of message that makes your heart skip a beat and your brain immediately start calculating fuel stops and traffic patterns.

"Drumil, heading to our old college café today. 250kms out. You in?"

Two hundred kilometres. Through Mumbai traffic. To a place we hadn't been to in years. From a friend I hadn't seen in just as long.

Here's the thing about old friends - they have this uncanny ability to resurface at the most random moments with the most impossible proposals. This particular friend lives close to our old college hangout, somewhere far enough from Mumbai that it feels like a different world entirely. Meanwhile, I'm here in the urban jungle, and he's casually suggesting I drop everything for a 250-kilometre ride to relive our college days.

My Tissot T-Race MotoGP Automatic Chronograph (2025) was sitting on the nightstand, and I swear it was practically vibrating with anticipation. This wasn't just any watch - this was a timepiece born from the same DNA as MotoGP racing, where milliseconds separate champions from also-rans. And today, it would witness its kind of race.

8:30 AM - Ignition Hour

In Mumbai, starting a road trip at 8:30 AM is either genius or insanity, probably both. The morning shower felt like a pit stop, every minute calculated. As I strapped on the Tissot, I couldn't help but admire how its dial caught the morning light. The chronograph subdials looked like miniature speedometers, which felt oddly prophetic.