A 47 Day Love Affair-Part 3

The Kauffman Cafe had a medieval touch about it.Very beautiful.Very neat.And very innocent looking  .It exuded a warmth.It had hung on its walls paintings of Rembrandt ,Monet and others . There were 3 middle aged ladies and a 50yrs plus  man who approached me with a warm smile. They asked me what I wanted to eat .I asked for Erdapel Salat,and Wiener Scnitzel and a glass of red Zweigelt wine .But my eyes were searching for Anneliese (Mrs Schidmt?).I was restless .All of a sudden I saw the biscuits that Anneliese gave me when I was in college (along with a packet of chocolates ).The speciality of the biscuits apart from their magnificent taste was that they had ingrained on them the word “Kaufmann’’.Each one of them .!!I asked for some of them and asked the man who got them for me
 “Are you a Kaufmann?’’I asked .
He replied in the negative ,but pointed to the prettiest of the three ladies and said,
“Her mother is a Kaufmann .”
I was desparate to meet Anneliese so I left part of my meal un eaten and approached the girl and asked her the name of her mother .She told me it was Christiana .With a huge emotional upsurge ,and a bit of hesitation ,i asked her whether she had a aunt whose name was Anneliese.She looked at me from top to bottom and her piercing eyes sized me up .She replied ,
 “Yes ,but she passed away many years back.But who are you?How do you know her ?’’
I did not answer the questions she asked me .I was silent .There was a lump which built up in my throat .There had been no contact or relationship with Anneliese for 37 years –but there is a difference in accepting a separation from accepting  death .Death is so final.It leaves one with no hope of reconciliation of any kind.After regaining my composure ,I asked the girl whether I could meet Christiana .I told her that I had met her Aunt many years back . And that I was from India. The girl started talking on the phone with her mother  and asked me my name .I told her I was “Coolu” because that’s the way Anneliese used to call me .She looked very quizzically at me ,and told me
 “Come lets go home ’.

After a short walk,I  entered the gate of the Kauffmans’ home, where Christiana was waiting for me .I had taken two bouquets of chrysanthemums with me .I handed one of them to Christiana as I hugged her warmly .We held each other in a tight embrace .In deafening silence .I held her like that for a long long time –one  minute .It felt like 37 years .She looked so much like Anneliese .The same blue eyes ,the same blond hair, now with a liberal sprinkling of white  and the same voice. Very, very attractive .And with the beauty that sadness sometimes adds to your personality

 “ I knew your sister for the 21 days she was in India .And then for another 26 days after she left India ,through letters we wrote to each other .She was more than an acquaintance .I cant explain even till today ,why it seems I knew her for a lifetime .I have come to return her T-shirt ,and I want to visit her grave and place these flowers on it .I tried to look for the most beautiful flowers –but there can be nothing that can match her beauty.Maybe you.”
I looked and searched  deep into her eyes looking for Anneliese  .In those deep pools I could see shades of her .

‘Yes ,you look a lot like her –she told me people mistook you for twins sometimes ’.
She held me tightly-and then her grip loosened .All of a sudden the weight of her body seemed to disappear. It was as if all the grief was being released .She clung to me like a baby. As I held her protectively ,I could see the cows over her shoulders .I counted them .There were 6 of them .It was as if time had stood still.And then she whispered “I know you.Very well .Anneliese used to talk a lot about you”.

She took me inside the house and to the room where Anneliese must have spent most of her life .There were 5 photographs that adorned the walls –one with hair coiled up ,another with a small puff (a la Ingrid Bergman style),another on a boat with  wind swept hair on the Adriatic Coast with dark shades ,one with her in the dress of the Austrian Airlines , and the last of her running on the beach at Puri .I still remember taking that snap
 “Run slowly Anneliese.” I had said ‘’You are running too fast .Run as if a scorpion is chasing you ,and not a  a tiger .And look back a little .You are running away from me .Your camera doesn’t have that kind of shutter speed”I had yelled.
She had slowed down and I had clicked .It was a beautiful frame, with her kicking up granules of sand behind her as she ran away from me  .She had said after the photograph “You said  that I was running away from you .No I was not .I was running away from the world towards you.”All of it  came back as if it was yesterday .Still so fresh.Still so vivid..

I asked Christiana what happened after Anneliese came back from India .She told me she had said she had met someone "who was very clever" !!,and that she wanted to marry him .However destiny had other ideas .While flying to Morroco (she was flying that sector ),the plane crashed over Gibralter.There were no survivors .All 59 on board perished .She said it was a widely reported disaster ,but since I was actively involved in playing University Cricket ,I must have missed the event .I was not aware of the tragedy .There was no way Anneliese could have survived even a small fall ,leave alone a crash –she was so delicate and fragile –just like the Swaroski crystals Austria is famous for .What about the subsequent letters that I had written after her passing away on the 23^rd of October? .Christiana told me that they were still unopened and proceeded to bring a small wooden box in which they had been preserved “Do u want to take them back –they are yours.”

‘No ,they are hers .I wrote them  for her .I know what I wrote in them .I don’t know what you will do with them –but I don’t want them back .Please.’’

‘In that case please take back the T shirt that she gave you .That is also yours.”Christiana had preserved the belongings of Anneliese very systematically-the pens ,the sun glasses ,the wollens and yes the many bottles of Chanel 5.I picked up one and smelt it .Yes Chanel smelt like Anneliese and not the other way around .At least to me .

I went to the cemetery where she was buried .Near the church .It read “Anneliese Kauffman 1953-1973’’The dash between the 2 milestones of her life does not explain her relationships.I placed the bunch of flowers on the grave .Sensations ,Hazratbal,the runs on the beach at Puri,the aarti at Badrinath where I proposed to her ,the Nahargarh Fort where she stood on the parapet and said ‘’I am jumping off’’!!,the Taj Mahal-“why doesn’t someone build something like that for me’’she had asked !!,all came back into my mind in  psychedelic formations .I offered a small prayer for her .As I did that the chimes of the church bells rang out loudly .Someone had just got married for whom the bells were chiming .

Before leaving Villach ,I told Christiana ,that I would write one last letter for Anneliese after I leave from Villach .And like the other letters that had remained  unopened ,she should put it along with them .There was not a single letter which I had written to her in the knowledge of her death .Maybe the dead can do things we cant –maybe she could still read the letters .

I left Villach .I reached Praha .I left for Istanbul where I was to spend 10 days with my sister.And then back into the airport at Istanbul for my long flight back to India .I settled into my seat .Suddenly I could get a whiff of the Chanel .Someone was obviously wearing one .The food came .As I looked out of my window ,I saw a beautiful cloud .It wafted slowly towards my window.I wrote my last letter to Anneliese “I don’t like the food they serve .I wish I was on  Austrian Airline flight rather than a Turkish Airline one .The food would have tasted so nice if you served me .A cloud just came very close to my window. It smelt like you.I thought it was you .It smiled at me and then disappeared .I have kept my promise and visited your pretty town and house .Now you keep yours .You have been so unkind that you  haven’t come to me even once-not even in my dreams .But doesn’t matter .As Elizabeth Browning wrote –you came ,but never went away.”

That very night in the hurly burly ,dust and grime of Delhi ,something happened that never happened all these years –I dreamt of Anneliese .I was chasing her on the beach at Puri .And she was running away from me .!!