In quantum physics, “entanglement” describes a relationship between the fundamental properties of two particles that could not have happened by chance. It’s an invisible link between two objects, allowing them to affect the other in ways that can’t be explained by classical physics.
Meeting Utsav felt like a quantum entanglement event. We could not have been more different, yet something at a subatomic level drew us together.
Utsav was a free spirit who hadn’t worked a traditional job in three years. I was the poster child of workaholism: fresh out of college, drowning in the pressure of starting an investor-backed business. He was confident and charismatic, and he knew it. I was high-strung and awkward.
Utsav’s days were slow and peaceful — sleeping in, playing volleyball, lounging in the park. Mine? A whirlwind of social commitments crammed between Zoom meetings, scarcely manageable but for the grace of a meticulously color-coded Google calendar.
“Is that really how you pronounce your name?” were his first words to me at a mutual friend’s party, sparking a conversation about our shared Indian American upbringing. Soon, I was too engrossed in our debate about A.I. girlfriends to realize I had been knocking cans off an overflowing recycling bin behind me the entire time.
We spent the next six hours together: a rooftop, a dinner, a viewpoint. At dinner, he psychoanalyzed me while I tried to restrain myself from ordering every salmon roll on the menu (he made the connection that my obsession with salmon was linked to memories of cooking it with my parents).
