As
land hassles stem the flow of NRI investment in Punjab, the Government
takes steps to ease the legal woes of expatriates.
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The
rampant misuse of the Dalit Act in Uttar Pradesh has a larger malaise behind
it, writes India Today's Subhash Mishra UNDUE
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TODAY
INDIA
TODAY HINDI
CURRENT
ISSUE MAY 26, 2003
COVER STORY: MT EVEREST
The Ultimate High
Fifty years after Hillary and Tenzing conquered
Everest, the peak remains the etern al challenge of all mountaineers.
By Suman Dubey
On May 29,
1953, two men stepped atop Everest, the world's highest mountain, and
changed forever the usually laidback sport of Himalayan exploration and
climbing. Fifty years later, reading the accounts of Edmund Hillary and
Tenzing Norgay, one is struck by the deceptive routineness of their fateful
ascent; the well-planned, steady progression up the mountain till inevitably
there was nowhere higher left to climb. Nothing has, of course, been the
same since, not for mountaineers, not for mountaineering and, alas, not
for the mountains.
AT HEAVEN'S DOOR: Everest (centre) at sunrise
That climb was a turning point in exploration, akin to reaching the South
and North Poles. So, not unexpectedly there is an outpouring of celebration
that, in the new ice age of information, communication and entertainment,
is taking mass forms, reaching into millions of homes and minds. Tenzing
died in 1986, but Sir Edmund will be in India and Nepal-and elsewhere-to
mark the half-centenary. Two roads in Delhi will be renamed after them.
Hundreds of climbers will be on the mountain this year to recapture
that moment. The Indian and Nepalese armies are also currently on the
mountain in remembrance, and National Geographic TV is tracking them.
There will be seminars, meetings and get-togethers in several capitals
around the world. Last year, Hillary's son, Peter, joined the son of American
mountaineer Barry Bishop in climbing Everest. Tenzing's son, Jamling,
reported on the ascent from the base camp for a commemorative documentary
aired recently on National Geographic.
If looking back on Everest's first ascent has the trappings of show
business, it is entirely in character with what climbing the mountain
has become. For the statistically minded, more than 1,200 people from
63 countries have made it to the top, and 176 lives have been lost on
Everest. On one remarkable day, May 23, 1991, 89 climbers reached the
top; on another rather more dismal 24 hours, May 10-11, 1996, 10 climbers
perished on the mountain. One climber reached the top 11 times, and another
two 10 times; the quickest to go from base to top did so in 16 hours;
the oldest to make it to the top was 65, the youngest 16; a blind man
has been to the summit and climbers have skied and snowboarded down and
para-glided off Everest. There seems no limit to the ingenuity with which
to make it up the mountain-or down it.
There seems to be no reluctance either on the willingness of would-be
summiteers to pay a small fortune to make it. Climbing to the world's
highest point is now big business, with people paying up to $65,000 (Rs
30 lakh) for the privilege, crowding and cluttering the "normal"
route up. Sometimes, as the 1996 deaths starkly revealed, this has shown
up the folly of commercialism in a zone where mistakes are often fatal.
HIGH RISK: Hillary helps a Sherpa with supply
loads during the 1953 climb
Yet Everest is not dwarfed by any of this. In the minds of mountaineers,
especially those who have had the good fortune to set foot on it, Everest
looms larger than any other summit. I have been on lovelier mountains,
enjoyed myself more on most others, flirted with greater danger elsewhere
and been exhausted or exhilarated far more than I was on Everest. Yet,
if there was a defining point in my short-lived mountaineering career
it had to be Everest. For some, Everest is too large and too public to
give real pleasure. But, for most, it lures like few other mountains.
There is, of course, nothing to match Everest's height-recently revised
to 29,035 ft or 8,852 m-but there is also something especially awesome
about the world's tallest mountain, its large, squat pyramid rising with
unexpected grace out of a network of glaciers. The famous snow plume skimming
off its top gives it a sense of unrivalled loftiness. Its vastness and
variety gives it 15 major routes, some of them among the hardest long
climbs (though it is true there are harder routes and mountains elsewhere),
and it draws more climbers than any other Himalayan summit.
Yes, Everest is the ultimate frontier and the outpouring of praise,
and the unfolding of celebratory events and attention is natural. Much
of this is likely to be humdrum and perhaps unnecessary, and mercifully
it will pass. Unfortunately, that can't be said as readily about the increasing
damage to Everest's environment due to this new mountain tourism. The
seasonal renewal, when the winter snows refreshed the high ranges and
were able to cleanse them of any human imprint, no longer suffices. Human
intervention is needed and perhaps it is time to reflect on this and devise
ways of letting the high mountains, especially Everest, rejuvenate themselves.
After all, half a century of increasingly unrestrained intrusion should,
amidst all the celebration, also ring some alarm bells.
The author is a former managing editor of India Today. He was a member
of the second Indian expedition to Everest in 1962. He is currently Chief
Representative of Dow Jones & Co. in India.
MY STORY:
SIR EDMUND HILLARY
The Saga
of the Ice King
"There is no photograph of me on top of the mountain
but I can assure you I was there." At 83, Sir Edmund Hillary
retains the indomitable spirit that carried the lanky beekeeper from
Papakura in New Zealand to the world's summit at 11.30 a.m. on May
29, 1953. It was, as he puts it, an uncomplicated plan: his team,
led by John Hunt, would tackle the mountain as best as they could
in what was the 11th expedition to Mt Everest. They were far from
sure that they would be successful. "But as we went higher and
higher on the mountain, my confidence grew. Tenzing Norgay and I were
proving to be a very strong couple." Finally, they got to what
is now called the Hillary Step and reached the top of the peak.
They didn't immediately tell all their teammates they had been
successful. "Then my very good friend and teammate George Lowe
raised his hand towards the summit, pushed his thumb up into the
air and waved it. All our companions rushed towards us. Hunt arrived
first and he threw his arms around my shoulder and gave me a great
hug. Then he hugged Tenzing. We all were extremely happy."
Since then, Hillary's life changed incredibly. He won a knighthood,
went on an expedition with modified farm tractors to the South Pole,
searched for the mythical yeti in Nepal, wrote books and built many
schools and hospitals for the Sherpas. It is with them that he is
spending the 50th anniversary in Kathmandu, though the British tried
their best to make him go to London.
His life has been touched by tragedy too-he lost his wife Louise
and daughter Belinda in an aircrash in Nepal in 1975. In 1989, he
married Jane Mulgrew and the couple live in Auckland. His eldest
son, Peter, 47, climbed Everest last year with Brent Bishop, son
of Barry Bishop, a member of the first US team to reach the top
in 1963.
MY FATHER'S STORY
JAMLING TENZING NORGAY She Tested His Faith
ROBUST RANKERS: Debroy
(left) and Bhandari
On top of Everest, Tenzing Norgay dug a hole
in the snow and buried some sweets and a pencil stub
his daughter had given him as offerings to the mountain. That
was Tenzing, the simple, unlettered man, who started as a porter
in 1935. Born in 1914 in Tibet, he lived most of his life in
Darjeeling, where he died in 1986. His son, also an Everest
summiteer, remembers his amazing father and his warm ways.
My father always said, "I climb so that my children
don't have to." It was not as if he was not passionate
about climbing-it was just that he wanted us to study and
lead a good life. But mountaineering is in my blood. I have
grown up listening to the exploits of my father. I have trekked
with him in the Sikkim Himalayas, learnt the ropes with him
by my side. So it was inevitable that I would one day climb
Everest. I kept my desire to climb the mountain suppressed
for a while. But when the imax team wanted me to join them
in their 1996 expedition, I quickly accepted. I am glad I
decided to climb the peak. It felt like I was connecting with
my father. I could feel his presence on the summit.
As I was Tenzing's son everyone expected more from me. But
not my father. He told me to do my own thing. Everything was
acceptable to him-except perhaps climbing. However, in many
ways he considered Everest his mountain long before he joined
an expedition. But she tested his faith. Seven times he tried
to reach the summit. Only once did she permit it.
Sir Edmund narrates his remarkable-and inspiring-story to Headlines
Today senior producer Vijay Jung Thapa for India Today.
When I was young, I was a very enthusiastic reader of adventure
books. I read almost a book a day about adventures. At that stage,
I went for a school party down to the mountains 200 miles away.
It was the middle of winter and there was a lot of snow everywhere.
I found it most exciting. I did a great deal of skiing and climbing.
This completely changed my life. From being a sort of a dreamer
I became a doer.
For many years after that I was a beekeeper. My brother and I
worked with my father. We had 1,700 hives spread all over the countryside
and we used to gather 20-30 tonnes of honey every year. But whenever
I got spare time, I would head to the mountains. I climbed many
great peaks in New Zealand and I became a skilled mountaineer. This
went on until the day I went to the Himalayas. By then I was a very
skilful snow and ice climber and was determined to tackle every
mountain I could.
For the first Himalayan expedition, we went to the Garhwal Himalayas.
We climbed six mountains of 20,000-23,000 ft. The great British
mountaineer Eric Shipton had just got permission to take an expedition
to the south side of Mt Everest on the Nepal side. He invited two
of us from New Zealand to join his team because he realised we had
a lot of skill in snow and ice climbing. So I joined up with Eric
and we went down to the Khumbu glacier and realised there might
just be a possibility of climbing Everest from the south side. That
was a very exciting moment for us.
In 1952, we had hoped to return to Mt Everest but discovered that
the Swiss had got permission for two expeditions, one pre-monsoon
and one post-monsoon. And although we spent the same time in the
Himalayas as they did, they worked hard on climbing the mountain.
But they were not successful. That meant that in 1953, it was up
to us to make the attempt. I was, of course, a New Zealander, but
in those days we were citizens of the UK and so I was a British
citizen and a New Zealand person of law. So there was nothing unusual
about me being invited to join the British expedition and going
to the Himalayas.
SAVOURING SUCCESS: A day
after the ascent, Tenzing (left) and Hillary celebrate their
feat with mugs of tea at Camp IV
As for Tenzing Norgay, before I met him at the British Embassy
in Kathmandu in 1953, I had read about his efforts. We got to know
each other very well and when we reached the Khumbu glacier and
Mt Everest, we started climbing together. I think we were a pretty
good team. He was very strong and well acclimatised and so was I.
But I wasn't completely sure we would be successful. The psychological
barrier meant that we really had no idea as to whether or not we
could be successful in reaching the summit of the mountain. In fact,
a physiologist had warned us that we might possibly reach the summit
but then die from the lack of oxygen. We persisted. We were very
determined.
We became the first people to spend a night above 27,000 ft. I
was quite uncomfortable really because we were in a very small tent
on a slipping area of snow. The temperatures were quite low so we
slid very little but finally the morning came. We looked out of
the tent and we could see that the weather had improved. We made
our preparations and left to climb the snow slope towards the South
Summit. When I looked along the summit region, I decided that it
was probably possible to climb it and we cut steps all the way,
climbing up what we call the Hillary Step, a 44-ft-high step, and
then further on until we reached a rounded snow dome. We climbed
up that and Tenzing and I stood on top of the world.
I think Tenzing in many ways was more excited than I was. I had
a strong feeling of satisfaction. So many expeditions had tried
to climb Everest, many of them had got very high but none had been
successful. It was a great feeling. I reached out to shake hands
with Tenzing but that wasn't good enough for him. He threw his arms
around my shoulder, I threw my arms around his shoulder and we gave
each other a really good hug to celebrate our success.
MAY 29, 1953. 11.30 A.M.: Tenzing
holds up the flags of the UN, Britain, Nepal and India on his
ice-axe
Then I got Tenzing to stand in a prominent position and took photographs
of him with his ice-axe in the air and with four flags waving from
his ice-axe. Then I took photographs down all the leading ridges
of the mountains just to give complete evidence that we had been
successful. There is no photograph of me on the top of Everest but
I can assure you I was there.
As for the whole controversy of who stepped on the summit first,
we were a team. I led all along the way to the summit ridge, cutting
steps and Tenzing was close behind when I moved up on to the summit.
So it was our feeling that we reached the summit almost together.
The next few months were very exciting indeed. We went to many
parties, of course. We seemed to be constantly consuming smoked
salmon, scotch and champagne, things I had never had before. We
went to many important functions. I was even knighted. It was at
Buckingham Palace. The Queen had a little stool placed in front
of her. John Hunt was knighted first. He knelt on the stool and
she touched his shoulders with a little sword. Then it was my turn.
I also knelt on the stool and she touched each of my shoulders with
the rather beautiful little sword and she said, "Arise Sir
Edmund." That meant I was knighted.
When Tenzing and I were on the mountains, communication was a
bit of a problem. I didn't speak much Nepali and his English wasn't
all that good. We could communicate about mountaineering matters
but not about anything else. Later on when I was the New Zealand
High Commissioner in Delhi-I spent nearly five years there-I saw
a great deal of Tenzing and his English became very good. We had
very happy discussions together. We talked about our families, about
the philosophy of life, about what was happening in India and elsewhere.
Funnily enough, you know, we never ever talked about our climb to
the top of Everest.