Snow and more snow. It was snow all around. No trees, no grass, no stones protruded from the vast expanse of snow that covered the ground like a thick white sheet.
A sudden surge of sadness swept over the heart of Tamang, the Sherpa. Often before that too, as he lay surrounded by snow and ice, he would become restless. His mind, like a bird would take flight into the realm of his memories. He would once again remember the Gandhak Valley, a long rift between two immense mountain ranges, its beautiful villages, nestling among hills, its lush green meadows, and the land where he had spent his youth, where he longed to be now.
Oh! Those were the blissful days. That was the period when all the snares and cares of life were still far away. Sometimes he saw the footprints of the Yeti on the snow and remembered how the superstitious hill-folk in the neighbourhood would quiver with fear when they saw them and chant “Om Mani Padme Hum”.
“Give me some water, Tamang”.
Startled out of his reverie, Tamang sat up. In an instant Gandhak Valley and all the images and its memories had conjured up were scattered as though by a violent storm, of remorse. Then Tamang cast a glance around the small tent which sheltered him. Near him, in the sleeping bag lay the “Big Sahib”, whom the mountaineers and the sherpas call the leader of the expedition.
“Sahib”, murmured Tamang but could say no more.
How could he explain to Sahib that there was no water, no tea, no coffee, nothing at all in the tent to quench their thirst. The stove which they used for cooking and had gone out of order the previous day. The only remedy open to them to slake their burning thirst lay in chewing bits of snow. Their throats had become swollen and sore on doing this again and again.
Sahib had been dying for a gulp of water the whole day without getting any drop of it. At times, he had begun to grumble something that the sherpa could not make out. Then he would begin to cry out in agony and become unconscious. Tamang was distraught with grief and worry. But he did not know what exactly he would do to alleviate the pain and suffering of his fellow companion. He sat still badly shaken by the desperate situation he was called upon to face. The only action his mind suggested him was frequently to pull aside the flap of the tent for a while and get a view of the frozen world outside.
A blizzard had been blowing for the last three days or so. Sahib was seriously ill and had been hovering between life and death for all these days. His feet were frost bitten. Gangrene had set in and the legs needed immediate amputation. Each part of his body shivered in pain. Tamang’s condition was in no way much better and less exposed to danger. Fatigue, hunger and icy blasts on the bleak hillside conspired to break both his bodily resistance and his spirits.
Four days earlier he had arrived at Camp III, after leaving the base camp. He was utterly exhausted. He had come up from an altitude of nineteen thousand feet to twenty five thousand feet in two days. Being the leader of the sherpas he had heard that a Sahib was very ill and braving the inclement weather he had continued with the ascent and was now with the Sahib.
The Sahib had clung to him like baby. He had repeatedly told him that he would never forget the services he had rendered him. For hours on end, Tamang massaged the Sahib’s arms and legs and nursed him. The Sahib’s eyes were full with tears of gratitude
As he was absorbed in thinking of his home, the Sahib called out to him and said, “Tamang, I am past hope. Leave me to God’s mercy and go, go save yourself”
But Tamang refused to listen to any such advice. Again and again he thought of his people back home. What would they say if they came to know that he had deserted the Sahib in that desolate place to save himself. He would not accept the charge of treachery. Come what may he would remain with the Sahib.
Tamang slipped into unconsciousness. The intense cold had begun to affect him. In fear and agony, Sahib called out his name again and again but there was no response. Outside the tent the blizzard howled and shrieked. More and more snow piled up on the tent. The two mountaineers were buried in the snow.
No aid could arrive from the camps below because of the blizzard which showed no signs of abating for seemingly endless days. Some days after this, braving the greatest odds, two sahibs and a sherpa managed to reach the solitary tent in the frozen land. Inside the tent they came across a heart wrenching sight. Two human beings now changed to corpses lay in a tight macabre embrace.
Tamang’s lips were frozen as he lay beside the Sahib. His face, even in death was utterly serene…….
