Hold on to your ice-axes. As the 50th anniversary of the first successful scaling of Mt Everest approaches, record crowds of climbers, trekkers and plain old voyeurs are crammed in the two main base camps at the foot of Khumbu Icefall on the Nepal side and along the Rongbuk glacier on the Tibetan side. The Nepal Mountaineering Association (NMA) estimates a jamboree of at least 1,000 people from 45 different expeditions hoping to summit the Big E.

PRISTINE PERIL: Khumbu Icefall on the southern route is one of the riskiest areas to negotiate

It's an eclectic mix. There is an American team looking to test Viagra as an altitude sickness preventive (studies indicate that it may increase blood flow to the lungs), an Everest Peace Project expedition that has members from different religions, a group of disabled Texans, winners of the "Everest Se Takkar" National Geographic contest, and members of a reality TV show called Global Extremes. And base camp isn't just a boring, barren strip of moraine anymore. This year, the Khumbu side has a rocking cyber cafe and the mountain's first semi-permanent medical clinic. On the Rongbuk side, weary climbers can refresh themselves at tented markets that allow you to relish a T-bone steak, wash it down with Heineken beer and end up with a satisfying Marlboro cigarette. There is even talk of an Aussie band flying in by helicopter to give the first-ever "high altitude, hard rock" concert.

The modern-day base camp is a far cry from the solemn, holy ground where Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary launched their historic bid for the summit in 1953. It is clear that the climbing culture will continue to change-as it has since the first expedition in 1921. Explains NMA President Ang Tshering Sherpa: "Mt Blanc in France gets 50,000 tourists a day in the season. Why can't we aim for the same?"

Why not indeed? The lure of Everest is as compelling as ever. Ever since a clerk burst into the office of Sir Andrew Waugh, India's surveyor-general, in 1852, saying a Bengali computer called Radhanath Sikhdar (a computer then was a job description rather than a machine) had discovered the highest peak in the world, every mountaineer has dreamt of bagging the summit. Connoisseurs of geological formations don't consider Everest a particularly attractive peak-its proportions are too bulky, too broad of beam and crudely hewn. But what Everest lacks in architectural grace, it makes up for with the sheer overwhelming mass of gleaming ice and dark, striated rock.

To stand on top of the world, the first Everesters were obliged to trek 400 arduous miles to reach the mountain. Nepal was a forbidden kingdom and the expedition had to make its way from Darjeeling to the Tibetan plateau. This could take months, and there was enough time to stop and smell the flowers along the trails of Sikkim and the Chumbi Valley. Unlike today, there were no commercial pressures from sponsors or clients to reach the top, just an individual's quiet determination. Also, the knowledge of the deadly effects of extreme altitude was scant and the equipment was pathetically inadequate by modern standards.

REMAINS OF THE DAY: Though the practice of levying $4,000 on all climbers is paying off, 100 tonne of garbage still litters the slopes

The inadequacy of the equipment was gauged after the discovery of George Leigh Mallory's alabaster corpse high on the slopes of Everest in 1999. Mallory, whose name is inextricably linked with Everest, was the driving force behind the first three British expeditions to the mountain. In June 1924, he and Andrew Irvine left for the summit from a high point on the mountain and never returned. When his pristinely conserved body was found 75 years later, Mallory was wearing hobnailed boots, a leather motorcycling helmet, a torn flannel shirt and a woollen jersey. As one member of the 1999 expedition remarked after finding Mallory's body: "Hell, I walk out in Seattle with more clothing than he had on at 28,000 ft on Everest."

Today's mountaineer has cutting-edge technology on his side (see box on previous page). Ensconced in a Gore-Tex, with a satellite phone in one hand and a lightweight ice-axe in the other and backed by intricate weather forecast, the modern-day climber has cut down the risks. More than anything else, the load a mountaineer has to carry on the slopes has reduced vastly. Hillary, in 1953, recounts carrying 60-pound loads on a regular basis. Today's mountaineer can get by carrying less than half that weight. "Technology has revolutionised climbing. The mortality rate has come down dramatically," says Ang Phurba, an Everest summiteer.

But even technology can't always save you from the brutal might of the mountain. On May 9, 1996, five expeditions launched an assault on the summit. The conditions seemed perfect, but a mix of incorrect decisions and a sudden storm front left them in a desperate struggle. In all, eight climbers died that day, making it the worst tragedy Everest had ever seen. The most dramatic moment of the tragedy involved New Zealander Rob Hall. Caught in a storm on the South Summit at 28,000 ft, knowing he had little chance of survival, the sat phone in his hand gave him the opportunity to speak to his wife in Christchurch. "I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don't worry too much," were his last words. Technology could only do that much and no more.

PEAK PLEASURE: Everest will remain the ultimate adventure

So what does the future hold for the world's highest mountain five, 10 or even 20 years from now? For one, huge crowds. Even if 2003 represents a spike in the hype, it is evident that more and more will come to bag the summit. For many climbers, records show, stealing time away from the daily grind has not been an insurmountable obstacle, nor has the hefty outlay of cash to the Nepalese government. Over the past five years, the traffic on Everest has multiplied at an astonishing rate. And to meet this demand, the number of commercial enterprises-those willing to take you up for a price-has increased correspondingly. Of the 45 expeditions this year, at least 10 are money-making ventures.

In fact, agencies are willing to take up reasonably fit candidates for $65,000 per head. This has angered purists who complain about overcrowding. They say the world's highest mountain has been debased by allowing climbers, who if denied the services of a guide, would probably have difficulty making it to the top of modest peaks. But with the government of Nepal collecting $10,000 per climber on the Southeast Ridge route, and the Chinese pocketing $5,000 on the North Ridge, neither is likely to set a cap on the number of mountaineers allowed each year. Questioned about commercial expeditions, a top Nepalese Government official said, "We allow everyone to fulfil his or her dream. We don't have the expertise to differentiate between climbers and novices."

The commercial ventures on Everest have generated a big debate that will not be resolved soon. Those who look at Everest as an alpine Wild West say everyone who dares to try should be provided the opportunity. But a majority disagree. If there are 50 or more climbers pushing for the summit on the same day, it is bound to create a traffic jam, they argue. "It could be a very dangerous trend," reiterates Hillary. Already, there are huge bottlenecks on big summit days. Despite the teeming crowds, almost everyone agrees that guided trips will only increase as more Walter Mittys choose to test their wills on the world's highest mountain. The legendary climber Reinhold Messner, who stunned the world in 1978 by being the first to climb the summit without any oxygen, feels only one expedition should be allowed on each route at a time. There are 15 established routes to the top of the world; this spring, 45 teams are rubbing shoulders on these paths.

With overcrowding come the inevitable environmental concerns. Recent studies indicate that global warming is changing the ecology on the mountain. Though some experts say the warm weather has made it easier to climb the peak, it is clear that the glacial meltwater is going to create problems for the local population. According to reports in the Journal of Glaciology, runoffs in lakes around the mountain are creating pressure on the moraines that act as natural dams, which threaten to burst and wash away the villages below. However, on the garbage front, everyone agrees that the slopes are cleaner than they have been in decades. "The new practice of charging an extra fee of $4,000 that is returned when an expedition shows they have brought back their garbage has worked wonders," says Deepak Gaunle, a mountain ecology expert.

It is clear that Everest will remain the ultimate adventure for the world. And new records will keep coming. For the 50th anniversary, the Nepal Government is hoping that the legendary Apa Sherpa will reach the summit for an incredible 13th time. While Nepal has legislated the minimum age of 16 to climb the peak, the record for the oldest summiteer-held by a 65-year-old Japanese-will surely be upped. The records for most summits, fastest climbs, and most hours spent on the top are likely to be constantly broken. And the more bizarre ones will continue too, as the sky is the limit on firsts. Mohan Pradhan, who has been on two Everest expeditions, remembers a yoga expert trying to reach the summit barefoot. "He did not get past the Icefall ... but who knows one day we just might have the first naked summiteer."

In the end, Everest also remains an impassive killer, drawing people to a snowy grave-at last count, it had snuffed out 176 lives. Says Tenzing's son Jamling Norgay, who reached the summit in 1996: "The mountain hasn't changed since the days my father and Hillary climbed. It's us. We have changed. It's still one heck of a climb."

Geared for Change With radical advances in mountaineering equipment in the past two decades, taming the Big E has become easier. Lighter clothing and sturdy tools take the sting off the climb.

For those who failed to keep pace with the advances in mountaineering equipment in the past two decades, it's a whole new world of synthetic marvels that may just have taken the sting off taming Everest. BOOTED OUT: Kohli in 1965; (right) a climber in 2003 Take boots. Earlier, climbers used heavy leather shoes with soles that were hobnailed into the uppers. An hour before the start of the expedition, they needed to be waxed to make them waterproof. No wax meant instant frostbite. And if the boots were left outside the tent, they would be frozen, making it extremely difficult to slip the feet in. The only solution was to sleep with the boots inside the sleeping bag. Today's boots come lined with the magic of plastic. They don't freeze and are lightweight. The One Sport Everest is extremely warm, with a lining of Alveolite insulation and another layer of Alveolite in the built-in over-gaiter. And they weigh less than a kilo. The sleeping bag is the key to survival in the Death Zone of 26,000 ft and above. Earlier, the bags were stuffed with goose feathers. Today, they sidestep the down-versus-synthetic conundrum by swinging both ways. While feathers are layered next to the body for warmth, the synthetic, quick-drying Primaloft, lies on the outside for its moisture-shedding properties. The old faithful ice-axe was wooden with a steel head, sturdy, but heavy and unidimensional. Not any more. The latest ice-axes are made of titanium and are featherweight. They also have curvatures and teeth that allow a climber to be suspended in mid air with only the ice-axe for support. Similarly, pitons and ice screws have transformed-all are titanium. Another area where a revolution has been quietly at work is oxygen cylinders. If one doesn't believe in Reinhold Messner's code of bagging the summit by "fair means", take heart. The old days, when cylinders weighed 10 kg, are over. The state-of-the-art Russian-built oxygen systems consist of a stiff plastic mask, a regulator and an orange steel Kevlar gas canister. They weigh less than 3 kg. Not only are they lighter, but they also have more capacity. In fact, everything has changed. The tents are lighter, sturdier and can breathe. The mittens with fleece inners assure frost-free security. Even the food is precooked and dehydrated. All one needs to do is add water and heat. Camp cookers too have become lighter, smaller, and more efficient. A steel-mesh bull's eye in the middle of the ultra-efficient lp gas burner keeps the flame roaring when the wind is doing likewise. But the handiest feature is its integrated starter. No more the temperamental matches. Just open the valve, flick the index finger, and ... Houston, we have ignition. Technology can keep you in a better frame of mind, but as Captain M.S. Kohli, who led the Indian team in 1965, says, "In the end, you still need to climb that mountain." -Vijay Jung Thapa

THE INDIANS WHO CONQUERED THE EVEREST

Tricolour on Top When Surrey schoolmaster George Mallory was asked why he wanted to climb the Everest, he said, "Because, it's there." That spirit guides India's Everesters.

It's a white dome, like in a dream. Heaven, you think, must be like this. But once you're there, you actually feel a little sad. This is the end. There's nothing left to accomplish.'' As a 26-year-old, Major H.P.S. Ahluwalia climbed to the top of the world 38 years ago, but he still pauses to rein in his emotions when he recalls being at the top of the Earth. It was the defining moment in his life, one that brought him national recognition. STANDARD BEARERS: Ahluwalia (left) with Phu Dorje on the summit in 1965 Much has changed since then. Today, successful expeditions are tucked away obscurely even in district newspapers. The mountains themselves have ceased to wield the inexorable power for a generation weaned on mind-candy. Yet, for Everesters like Ahluwalia, the challenge of the world's highest mountain remains a pulsating reality. For them, scaling the peak was as much a physical exercise as spiritual. It changed their lives, touching them with magic, almost mystique. Everest has always been special to India, not just because it is in the country's backyard or because Tenzing Norgay was a Sherpa, a community that regards itself as belonging to Tibet, Nepal and India. The Indian connection goes back to the naming of the peak after George Everest, one-time surveyor-general of India. It also goes back to the man who facilitated the report of the first ascent in 1953 in The Times of London-G.R. Joshi, vice-consul at the Indian Embassy in Nepal. But Everest is not about this nation or that. It is about the team. Ask Captain M.S. Kohli, leader of the third Indian expedition. He didn't reach the top-though nine of his men did-but he wears his Everest honours proudly. The honours bind an exclusive club of 64 Indians, many of them trained by Tenzing at the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute in Darjeeling. It is a charmed circle that has the shorthand of easy intimacy. Some in the circle have been lost to time, like Avtar Cheema, the first Indian to step atop Everest. But the circle has also widened to include women like Bachendri Pal and Santosh Yadav. Yadav, who lived in a Haryana village till she was 12, still breaks into goose pimples when she speaks of her first ascent in 1992 (she went again a year later). "When I hoisted the tricolour, my hair stood on end," she says. H.C.S. Rawat, an intelligence agent who was a part of the first successful expedition-he took the picture of Ahluwalia and Phu Dorje on the summit on May 29, 1965-reiterates the electric feeling. "You feel like a tiny speck in the universe,'' he says. Ahluwalia concurs, saying the camaraderie that binds Everesters-he still recalls the night he spent on Everest, huddling together with Rawat and Phu Dorje for warmth-can never be recaptured. Mountaineering may have been overshadowed, like all else, by cricket in India, but Everesters are far from a forlorn breed. Yadav, even as she has her first baby, is planning to set up an NGO for the underprivileged; Kohli's work with the Himalayan Environment Trust, of which Sir Edmund (or Lamba Sahib, as his Nepalese cook would call him) is chief patron, is wide-ranging; and Ahluwalia, who was wounded in the 1965 Indo-Pak war, is actively involved in setting up a disability commission. National Geographic's ongoing show Mission Everest has helped the cause of these passionate men and women. Dilshad Master-Kumar, senior vice-president, National Geographic-daughter-in-law of Colonel 'Bull' Kumar, deputy leader of the 1965 expedition-says the research for the show has taught her many things, the best being humility. It is a humility the Everesters carry with elan. Even today. As Ahluwalia puts it, "You can buy anything in the quest for Everest, but not luck or weather." -Kaveree Bamzai