Both my wife and I knew Professor Kamal Mitra Chenoy in different capacities and we both agreed he was a wonderful person. Charismatic, warm, ruggedly handsome, easy to talk with, he was someone we saw almost daily, especially as Anindita occupied the room above the warden flat at Ganga Hostel and I shared Kirorimal college and AISF affiliations with him.We often noticed him carrying sleepy little Archit in, talking patiently to Ayesha, walking in with groceries or playing with the kids. We ran into Anu (Anuradha Chenoy) and him and their lovely family ever so often, both of us unconsciously absorbing the template and wishing for a family just like this. We were reminded of their example years later as Anindita occupied the warden’s flat at a Delhi University hostel and our children were exactly the same age as Ayesha and Archit. Come the summer of 1991, we were looking forward to our high-altitude field trip as part of our training at the Centre for the Study of Regional Development (CSRD), at Jawaharlal Nehru University. Usually this meant a month-long trek to glacial landscapes in Ladakh, but that year, due to trouble in Ladakh our trip was planned to the Pangi valley in Himachal Pradesh instead. The route involved continuous trekking from Dalhousie, to Khajiar, Chamba, Bhramour, Cherry Bungalow along the course of the gushing Chandrabhaga and across the just opened snow clad Saach pass towards Jispa and Keylong in the Pangi valley. Many of us had never been to the mountains before, or seen snow, so we were really excited. And Kamal Mitra Chenoy, one of the coolest teachers in JNU, would be accompanying us along with Professor Harjit Singh.As the field trip commenced and we trekked upwards, pitching our tents in forests or occupying dilapidated govt daak bunglows along the route, Kamal quickly became everybody’s heartthrob and go-to person. He carried his own rucksack, never asserted his seniority, was game for a round of ghost stories, joined us at the bonfire and livened conversations with his infectious humour, rocking his check shirts with elan. He listened patiently and sorted out our logistical squabbles, helped us pitch our tents, directed the cooks and effortlessly became a part of the group. Former JNU professor Kamal Mitra Chenoy. Photo: X/@KamaIChenoyAs the route got more rugged and the trails narrower, I found myself turning to him frequently to discuss the movement plan, pressing a point or two from my trekking experience and he always listened respectfully, adding his own input. We reached the base point for Saach Pass and found there was quite a bit of snow on the ground. Everyone was in equal measure excited and exhausted. Professor Harjit and I had a disagreement on when to begin our ascent to the pass. I wanted to give everyone one day of rest for acclimatisation, whereas our schedule required us to keep ascending. Following my gut and disagreeing with the professor, I put my foot down and said the group was not acclimatised enough, that I certainly wouldn’t go and would hold back my friends too. It was very bold of me to stand up to a professor, especially a dynamic personality like Harjit Singh, who stood tall in his socks and weighed a few stones. Just then, Kamal got into the discussion and said laconically, “Harjit even I am planning to stay back. So listen to what the boy is saying”. Thanks to this intervention Harjit sir agreed to delay the ascent.The next day Kamal, a classmate Kuldeep (unfortunately no longer with us), a local Gujjar boy and I decided to recce the route while everyone else rested. We climbed half way up to the pass, noting the terrain and snow cover. Once Kamal felt we had done enough to understand the route, we decided to go back and begin preparation. We spent the rest of the day arranging wooden sticks for everyone, supervised the packing, divided dry rations and waited.And then came the night none of us could ever forget.The journey became an indelible memory and part of CSRD lore. Delayed well after noon, we were climbing slowly still hoping to cross the pass before the sun dipped into the horizon. A few girls had gone ahead, I was with the advance party, Harjit sir was with the main group and Kamal was walking with those lagging behind, urging everybody to keep going. All at once, as is common in mountains, a lightning, hailstorm and heavy rain descended on us just before we hit the pass. The trail, at this height, was completely snow bound. Anindita Datta, during acclimatising at Satrundi, the base camp for Saach pass. Photo: Author providedThe storm increased our difficulty and decreased our speed with the path turning slippery, combined with dark skies and high altitude amid the hail – it was chaotic. The group split up, and while Kamal was bringing up the rear, I, at the front, managed to unfurl a large plastic sheet which four boys held up, as we tried to get everyone under it.Meanwhile, the two girls leading the pack by then crossed over to the other side of the pass and got separated from the advance party. I caught up with them an hour later. Unaware of what was happening behind them, they were going down a narrow path that hugged the mountain on one side and a deep valley floor on the other, about 200-250 metres below. Totally exhausted and disoriented, one of them casually threw her sleeping bag down and I saw it roll away. I yelled at the girls but they didn’t answer. So, I had to now climb down to the valley floor, tie the sleeping bag to my rucksack and climb back up to the trail.Meanwhile the sun had set, the sky was now fully dark, the wind icy, our group scattered even more in the hail and I realised we were all lost. Knowing Kamal was in charge and bringing up the rear and Harjit Sir would be in between, I trudged on ahead, managed to overtake the girls and find shelter for us all in a small makeshift dhaba, the first sign of habitation across the formidable Saach paas. Here we began assembling everyone who came up across the trail, exhausted, teeth chattering, soaking wet and some quite disoriented. I pulled out all the extra dry clothes I had (not much anyway) and then we opened the rucksacks that some of the porters had brought in with the advance party, rigged up a blanket behind which we changed into whatever dry clothes were available.Kamal and the others were still not in sight. Worried, I got one of the porters to come back with me as I retraced my steps up the mountain into the Saach pass again. An hour later, I met Professor Harjit with some of our group. He saw me and started weeping with relief, thinking those ahead were lost. I hugged him tight and told him our advance party was safe and resting, and that I was going back to find Kamal and get the rest of the team.The porter and I started hurrying up the narrow path and while crossing a frozen stream I slipped and nearly fell into a crevice in the frozen river below. I was shaken and lost my will to continue. The high-altitude disorientation had kicked in so I told the porter that I would wait and he should go on. I waited there for two hours. I didn’t have a torch and pretty soon it got darker. The impenetrable inky darkness would not allow me to go back or move ahead. I sat glued to the spot wearing a raincoat and a thick sleeveless sweater (both belonged to some other student) but was carrying a full pack of cigarettes and had two match boxes. I was confident that with this I would survive the inky night.After nearly two hours of being stuck there alone in the dark, stomping my feet to keep warm, I suddenly heard what seemed like snatches of singing, Kamal’s voice and some “CSRD March On!” chants in loud voices and saw some moving lights snaking up the frozen river bed. This was the remaining party Kamal was bringing up. They were hungry and wet and they didn’t have any torches. So, the boys took out their vests, tied them to the wooden sticks, dipped them in kerosene that a porter with them was carrying and made mashaals – all probably under Kamal’s unfazed supervision. There he was, bringing up this motley mashaal juloos, under the night sky on a frozen river bed. Totally surreal!The author, in frame, among others after returning to Delhi from the trek. Photo: Author providedFinally, all of us made it – a group of 36 – and we crowded the dhaba that night. The whole lot of us who were part of that trek are today scattered across the globe united by this memory. I know we owed so much to Kamal. We might disagree on some minor details but all of us would agree that Kamal was our friend and had stood with us, and kept us going when the chips were down. Losing him hits hard. I for one will look for him in the Happy Hunting Grounds where I am sure he would have already amassed a large fan following. Alvida comrade! That icy night on the Saach showed us what a wonderful soul you were. Not once did you lose your cool, your courage, cheer, common sense, or your humanity. You met the mountain calmly, teaching us life lessons no textbook can.Everybody’s heartthrob – and no one rocked that checked shirt better than you.Go in strength!Mohammed Aslam is a corporate trainer, adventurer, wildlife enthusiast and part-time farmer dividing his time between his home in Delhi, his off-grid farm surrounded by forests and his corporate travels.