An honorable man.

I first met C.S. Pandey in 1991 when he was the director of the first annual Himalayan Run & Trek. All 15 of us got through that event, overcoming not only the demanding course, but also broken jeep axles, the Boys' Room (think high altitude flatulence syndrome combined with Indian government sleeping bags made of crinkly plastic), no food on the first night (because of the broken axle, although stringy spaghetti finally appeared), the Rat Shit Hotel, and other logistic nightmares. Through it all, Mr. Pandey coped and persevered. Today the Run & Trek is a major event, with busloads of participants from all over the world. Thanks to the efforts of Mr. Pandey, who is still the director, all the participants have to worry about is the course.

Mr. Pandey took good care of us during that trip, solving every problem with aplomb. It was one of the greatest adventures of my life, one I will never forget, and I have always been thankful to Pandey-ji. In 1995 I traveled to India by myself to meet Twila, who had been in Amritsar for two months. Delhi can be intimidating, but Mr. Pandey had three of his people pick me up at the airport, take me to a hotel, change currency for me, and pick me up in the morning and put me on the train to Amritsar. Again I was grateful, though I didn't see Mr. Pandey on that trip. Really, I didn't know him at all. He was too busy during the Run & Trek to form anything but a cursory relationship.

Twila kept in touch with Mr. Pandey over the years, through email. Much of it was business, but they had a good rapport. We always send him our Christmas newsletter, and surely he was never forgotten. I didn't have any contact with him after the Run & Trek, however.

That changed on Sunday, when Twila met Pandey-ji in the city and brought him back to our apartment to stay for a couple of days. My first impression was that he had not changed at all. He didn't look a day older. My second thought was that his backpack was extraordinarily heavy to lug around, although Mr. Pandey's slender frame is very strong - his now-large business focuses on Himalayan adventures. Mr. Pandey had not been in NYC before, and he was traveling with only that and one smaller backpack.

Twila took Mr. Pandey to the city the next two days, and I only saw him in the mornings and evenings. I learned a lot about him, though, because he talks quite a lot. I enjoyed hearing his stories and philosophies. I learned that Pandey-ji is now a very successful businessman with connections all over the world, as well as in the Indian government. He is spiritual and devout. He had a bottle of water from the Ganges from which he poured a small amount into the Hudson, and also took some of that water to return to India. Mr. Pandey approached his New York trip with wide-eyed enthusiasm, alternating between shopping for needed items, meeting other runners from the initial Run & Trek, and taking photos of anyone who would pose for him. In our apartment he tried very hard to be unobtrusive, insisting on washing his own dishes, and drying his laundry on lines he strung in his room. We left a towel rack clear for him in the bathroom, but he didn't think he should use it, and he didn't.

We exchanged gifts. He gave us precious silk scarves from India, and we gave him a fondness for bagels, which he had never tasted. He said he might even have gained a couple of pounds, though really he ate very little.

It was endearing, and I felt an unexpected connection to him.

Life, of course, has a way of putting demands on all of us, so today Mr. Pandey is going back to his room in a YMCA in the city. He's returning to India on Friday. This morning we sat and he expressed his gratitude and affection for us, and he sang several beautiful Indian songs, explaining their meanings as he did. I really wanted to get a video of him, but thought it would be rude to get up to get my camera while he was singing. Then it was too late and he had to catch a train.

We drove Mr. Pandey to the train station. He was only slightly intimidated by traveling into New York alone, then having to find his way from Grand Central Terminal to the YMCA, something over 20 blocks away. He and I exchanged warm farewells, and then Twila walked Mr. Pandey to his train, while I tended to the car. I had almost cried while he was singing, and now it was wrenching to watch the small man with the big bags going off by himself to whatever adventures he will encounter. Now he's gone, and all I got was this lousy lump in my throat.

Travel well, Mr. Pandey.