Daniela Jodorf - Kashi

Paul did not wonder why and how he was able to see and understand all this. He did not doubt the reality of his experience, nor the meaning it had for him and everybody around him. All he felt was gratefulness. This experience was miraculous because it seemed like the answer to a prayer, he had not dared to pray. Karen Garin had shown him what needed to be done to make the language of music understood by everybody. She had shown him how everybody was able to experience the story that the musician wanted to tell with his music. The gap between the last tone and the audiences clapping seemed timeless. When the lights were turned on, Karen Garin put her sitar aside and stood up gracefully. She came to the edge of the stage and bowed deeply, appearing even more relaxed now. The applause was frenetic. Karen smiled and pulled the violinist in the front. People stood up and some even started screaming. Paul wondered when this hall had last seen a rapture like this. One musician after the other joined Karen in the front of the stage now. Paul was so touched and excited that he clapped louder and louder. Somehow it was clear that the orchestra would not sit down again to play another bonus piece. Once the clapping would ebb, they would leave the room. And surely because of this the clapping did not find an end. People did not want this moment, this experience to end. But nonetheless, the inevitable end came. Karen left the stage first, followed by the other artists. Only now people in the audience began to look at each other and some started to talk and discuss their experiences immediately. Paul did not want to hear any of this talk and fought his way out.

He needed to talk to her. He tried to find somebody who could lead him backstage. But people were pushing toward the checkroom, and he was caught in the stream. Outside, he tried to reach the back entrance, where he had entered the Konzerthaus only two days ago. People were pushing against a barrier. One of the security guards looked at Paul and he took his chance to speak up.

“I have to talk to Karen Garin! It´s important.”

“Sure. Everybody here wants to.” At least he spoke English.

“She asked me to come here”, Paul said not quite honestly.

The security man laughed. “I am sorry. But we can not let you in.”

“Do you know where Mrs. Garin is staying?”

“No, I don´t. Look, Sir, I told you… There is nothing I can do for you.”

Paul pulled his card out and wrote a note on the back: Midtown Hotel, room no. 263. Need to talk to you! He gave the card to the guard. “Please, she needs to receive this!” The guard grinned, but Paul did not care what he might think about him.

◊◊◊

“There is somebody waiting for you, Sir”, said the concierge, when Paul returned to his hotel only fifteen minutes later.

Paul looked around the lobby.

“A lady. She is sitting in the left corner back there.”

Paul´s heart started palpitating. He still moved like in a trance. Everything seemed bigger, louder, faster, stronger. His nerves seemed to be extremely sensitive, and he felt the need to retire to his room alone. “Is it her”, he asked himself, when he thanked the concierge and walked in the direction he had pointed to. “It must be her.” It was her.

She sat on a brown couch and watched everything very attentively. Long before he had approached her seating corner she had spotted him and got up. She did not smile; in fact, her expression was very serious. Paul´s heart was still beating up to his throat and he could not think clearly.

“Did you get my card?” he asked feeling like a fool.

She ignored his question. “I have been waiting for fifteen minutes!”

He was not sure if her statement was intended to be an accusation. How could that be? Did she leave the Konzerthaus long before him?

“I came here right away. I have given my card to one of the security guards at the back entrance. I needed to see you after this… after this… experience.”

She sat back down, and he walked around one of the huge sofas and sat across from her, not quite sure if she approved. She was so self-confident again, that it felt almost rude and arrogant. Her behavior definitely made him feel insecure and stupid, like a little boy who had come to school too late. Paul was sure that her way of communicating followed different rules than the ordinary. But he was too slow to figure out how he was supposed to talk to her. She looked at him silently, with a calm mind and a calm heart. He was unable to read her thoughts. He could not figure out if she liked or disliked him. She seemed totally neutral, neither sympathizing nor disapproving. He could hardly bear the silence, but he forced himself not to talk first. She was not fighting with him, not trying to struggle him down in a game of power. No, she was just looking at him, watching him closely, as if she had a question in her mind that needed to be answered before she would talk again. The waiter was his rescue.

“Would you like a drink, Sir?”

“May I”, he asked, noticing that she had a glass in front of her.

She nodded, still not smiling and granting him relief from his inner tension.

“A gin tonic, please", he ordered. She did not show any reaction, neither approval nor disapproval. Paul was confused, almost losing the ability to know what he wanted.

The waiter sensed his hesitation. “A gin tonic, Sir?”

“Yes, please.”

When the waiter had left, she finally started to talk. “How was your time in Berlin?”

“Interesting. Different. Scary. More aware - like you have foretold.”

“Any daydreams or visions?”

How could she know? He got scared. He wanted to run. But again he forced himself to calm, to relax and to wait what would happen. He was not in control of this conversation, he knew. But he also knew that he had to stay and go through this.

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

Paul hesitated. He did not really want to talk about this.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Garin, but I am not sure if I want to talk about this. I hardly know you!"

Now she smiled for the first time this evening. It was a beautiful, bright and innocent smile that reflected the same artlessness that he had noticed at the beginning of the concert.

She took a deep breath before she answered. "Of course you don´t know, if you can trust me, Paul. But you don´t have to. You just have to be a little curious and you should have liked my music."

Paul swallowed heavily, feeling eased again by the presence of the waiter, who brought his drink. He needed time before he was able to take the glass and drink with her.

“What do you want from me”, he asked bluntly, sounding ruder than he intended to.

“Nothing!” was her immediate and surprising answer.

“Why have you talked to me in SoHo and why are you here now?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Absolutely!”

“Please, correct me if I am wrong… You are a very successful, internationally renowned composer and violoncello player. You have won several prices and you teach at Juilliard School. You are divorced and you have felt more and more dissatisfied with your work lately. You have discovered your loneliness and the need to be seen and heard beyond normal acknowledgment. You often feel misunderstood by your audience and you have been searching for ways to change the perception of the people who listen to your music. But there you have come to a limit, an invisible barrier that you can not cross…”

“How do you know?” he asked staggered by the accuracy of her description.

“I have felt your need…" An expression of worry, kindness, and empathy flew over her face.

“You have felt my need? I don´t understand.”

„I have seen you. There was a feeling of despair around you, of hopelessness and the impulse to grow, to learn, to climb higher on the ladder of evolution…”