Remembering Hillary

Sorry about making this rather an obituary column. But Hillary is no more. No, not Hillary Clinton, even though she is in the process of ascension to the summit. I'm talking about one Sir Edmund Percival Hillary. Voila! The very man who, along with Norgay the Sherpa, conquered Mt. Everest on 29th May (that's my birthday!), not in 1981 but in 1953.

Sir Edmund Hillary with Tenzing Norgay

What do people achieve by setting their feet on top of a barren mountain? One may ask. But there is a sense of achievement - born out of a child's curiousity, an adventurer's perseverance, and a human being's tryst. I have the experience of climbing half a mountain, with my childhood friends, only to discover that the path ahead requires extreme physical and mental toughness. But there was a sense of childish pride - in seeing my home village and the green fields all over in a Lilliputian scale. We ate the mangoes we stole from a grove on the way to the hill. Then we dipped ourselves in a cool stream, and headed back home - with lots and lots of thorns and weeds and twigs making their mark on our bodies. Yet, we were proud. So think of Hillary's pride. He has conquered the world!

And the great man is no more. Sir Edmund Hillary died of a Heart Attack on 11 January 2008 at the age of 88. Everest will be weeping by now.