For the Love of the Guru 5

Chela Mahananda decided to go sightseeing around Cagayan. It was morning. The hit would be on the next day, anyway. And he had seen the place where he would make the hit, the comfort room behind the Atrium stage.

He took off before any of the other chelas could come to his hotel and decided to take a walk around Divisoria. As he walked down the long segmented park that divided the city in olden days, a feeling came over him. It was as if he had been here before countless times.

Maybe in an earlier reincarnation. he thought as he neared Xavier University. He felt somewhat hungry and remembered that he hadn't eaten breakfast, so he entered a small restaurant managed by a fat middle-aged man who was seated near the door. The man looked and smiled at him with a certain familiarity.

As Mahananda seated himself and ordered coffee, as he hadn't made up his mind on what to eat, the man got up and approached him.

"Glad to see you back," he said. "Where have you been all these years?"

"I'm sorry," said Mahananda, puzzled. "I don't understand."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't remember me?" he asked. "You used to come here a lot and hang out, get some coffee and read newspapers."

"I think you must've mistaken me for another person," said Mahananda. "This is my first time here. You don't know who I am."

The man was taken aback. "Sure I do," he said after a moment's pausing. "You're Maximilian Ong."

Mahananda was annoyed, but he didn't want to offend this gentleman who obviously meant no harm. He rose and put the money for the coffee down on the table.

"Keep the change," he said. "Sorry to bother you."

He walked out the door, leaving the man puzzled and wide-eyed.

As he walked in the direction of the Philippine Veterans' Bank (yes, it was still there and functioning properly,) he ran into two younger men who were aghast to see him.

"Maximilian!" one gasped.

"You're back!" said the other.

Mahananda was even more irked. He took a step back. "What?" he said. "What are you talking about?"

"Where have you been?" asked the first.

"What will your dad say when he hears about this?"

"It's not what you think!" Mahananda blurted. He turned around and saw the man coming out of the restaurant. He turned again, elbowed the two boys aside and dashed past them.

"We have to tell Uncle Eric," said the second.

"No," said the first. "Let's go to Uncle Peter."

Maximilian Ong? Mahananda thought. No way! He's in another ashram! What, do I look like him?

He ran into his hotel and straight into his room. He locked the door and flung himself into bed.

What are they talking about? he thought. It was getting tense. Do I look like Maximilian Ong? I know he became a sannyasin, bit I don't know where he is. We were all required to forget who we were and leave our pasts behind so I have no way of knowing where he could be or if we met, I wouldn't recognize him.

He decided to go out later. The idea of being called Maximilian Ong intrigued him so he decided to look it up in an internet cafe.

A knock was heard on the door of the cardinal's office. "Uncle Peter!" said a familiar voice excitedly.

The cardinal rose, put down his teacup, walked across the room and opened the door. In came his two nephews Paul and Andrew, sons of his younger brother Oliver.

"What is it, boys?" the cardinal asked, noticing the excited and astonished looks on their faces.

"Uncle Peter," said Paul, "you're not going to believe this!"

"It's Maximilian," added Andrew. "He's back!"

"What?" the cardinal started.

Late in the afternoon, Mahananda walked into an internet cafe after making sure nobody was around to mistake him for Maximilian Ong. But some people in the internet cafe looked at him as though he was somebody popular.

As he looked at the computer screen to look for an image of Maximilian Ong on the search engine, he was met with a shock. The face of Maximilian Ong was his.

Am I?