Age and Proximity

Memories are strange; one could live without as much as a thought about someone, but one little incident can open the floodgates of emotions. Emotions as fresh and raw as if the incidents happened a few moments ago. The only difference is that the happy moments bring with them a twinge of sadness, a longing of what once was.



Jennifer, still busy giving finishing touches to the photographs, smiled and checked the time.

11:30 pm.

She shifted the tabs on her browser and there it was, the mail she had been waiting for.

“[New Post] Cyrus Daruwala has posted a new blog Post”

Quickly clicking the link to the blog post, Jennifer started reading. He had written a very thought provoking article on the state of Juvenile law in the country. As she read, she was impressed with how deep and meaningful his arguments were. Even though he was almost a decade younger than her, she felt he was quite mature for his age. She admired his writing style, his passion for what he was doing, the earnest and almost naive belief that he would change the world.

She distinctly remembered the first time she had chanced upon Cyrus’s blog. She had started off looking for inspiration for her latest photography project. One site led to another, and before she knew it, she found herself reading one blog post after another by a young law student.

His posts were so precise and verbose, the way he wrote his feelings, she could not help but be drawn to his words and had consequently written to him. This had opened a floodgate of communication between them, they had so much in common and yet, they came from different walks of lives, had different experiences which lead to a lot of discussions and conversations.

Even though she did not want to admit to herself, she knew that one of the main reasons she was attracted to Cyrus, was that she was reminded of someone who once meant everything to her, and yet, someone who now had become a stranger. Cyrus’s writing evoked a deep longing in her. A longing for what once was hers, of what she had given up thinking that there were other things more important. Ever since that fateful day that she had read Cyrus’s blog post, she could not stop herself from re-visiting her past. A past, that she thought was now too far away to haunt her. How wrong she had been! The pain was gone though, that was a good thing. She no longer felt that gut wrenching pain when his carefree smiling face slashed before her eyes. Time might not have erased the memories, but it had successfully erased the pain.

Shekhar had the same way of expressing his feelings via words. Just like Cyrus’s words, she would be lost in the worlds that were created by Shekhar’s pen. The same earnestness, the same naivety, same offhanded carelessness, Jennifer often found herself wondering if what she had with Cyrus was the result of what she had with Cyrus or was it because she had suddenly started missing and actually longing for a relationship that she had with Shekhar?

Is it really fair to Cyrus, if she kept looking for someone else in him? Was she looking for someone else? Why this sudden need to know what Shekhar is up to?

Sighing to herself, Jennifer decided to just go to sleep. She knew that if she would start to analyze and over think this, she would just end up in a mess of emotions.


“Damn the Delhi Traffic!”

It had taken Cyrus two hours to reach home from his college.

After a quick bath, he ordered Pizza for himself and opened his laptop.

This was the best part of the day for him, all the tensions and the worries just melted away when he started to write. For Cyrus, writing was his way of relaxation, he could feel all the pent up energy leaving his body by the way of words. It was eleven thirty by the time he was finished with the day’s blog post. His half eaten pizza lay cold beside him on the table.

Taking another piece from the box, he opened his social networking site. After briefly scrolling through his timeline, he found himself on Jennifer Joseph’s page. He had developed this habit of visiting her profile almost every time he opened his laptop.

These days anyone with a digital SLR camera called themselves a photographer, but Jennifer’s pictures had a distinct charm of their own. Each picture had a story of its own, and the writer in Cyrus was intrigued by these stories. He remembered the day she had first contacted him, he had reverted with a polite response to her message and briefly glanced at her profile. A lady almost a decade older to him, he had never thought they would become such close friends.

The clock told him it was almost forty five minutes since he had uploaded the post. Cyrus felt a twinge of disappointment pass through him. There were a couple of likes and comments, but the one person’s reaction that he wanted to see had not come. He could not exactly pinpoint why this sudden disappointment. What did Jennifer mean to him? She was just a friend after all. But then again, he did not feel this disappointment when his other friends did not acknowledge his blog. How could he even think that anything with Jennifer was even a possibility? The age difference made it impossible, why then was he feeling thus?

His head swimming with these thoughts, he refreshed Jennifer’s profile. No new update.

Shaking his head, Cyrus shut his laptop for the day.


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