It was only when I reached the top that I realized how thin the air was. I had been tanned by days of trekking, moving toward a goal that still eluded me. I had to reach the top—but to reach every summit, one has to pay a price, and I was surely paying mine on this particular trek to Everest Base Camp.

The UV rays from the sky hit me flush on my face, and I was turning brown. I had climbed at high altitude for days, doing my utmost to acclimatize so that I could reach the mighty peak. The rain and mud had tarnished my boots, yet I forged ahead.

The happy and agile Sherpas gave me hope. If they could climb with such ease—smoking cigarettes and listening to folk songs—so could I. These men wore tattered shoes and no protective clothing, yet they managed to navigate the rugged mountains with remarkable ease.

All I used to have were Mars bars and energy drinks during the trek, as I was advised to avoid non-vegetarian food. But yes, I would grow breathless many times and walk slowly, just to make sure I didn’t fall off the mountain from exhaustion.

The mountain terrain was very deceptive, as every day the view and scenery would change. One day, I would be walking across suspended bridges through a valley of yellow flowers; the next, I’d be navigating gushing streams. I would trudge over valleys and water channels, then through rain and slush. There were entire days with no vegetation or grass—as at high altitude, nothing grew. I would see only stones, rocks, and boulders. But I constantly came across mountain yaks, horses, and donkeys—beasts of burden used by the locals to carry supplies to the higher peaks of Everest.

The picturesque mountains would light up with the view of an ancient monastery or, at times, an animal and bird sanctuary—these I explored with relish and delight. The freezing winds howled into my ears, and the breeze often carried ice and snow, hitting me flush on the face. This was a unique and novel experience, one that could only be had at such high altitudes. I saw one mighty peak after another rise before me, and it took time to learn the names of each one.

To pass the time, I would chat with Arwa, my trekking companion for most of the journey. I also tried to motivate myself with chanting as I navigated the mountains. No matter how difficult the climb became, I believed the mighty Everest wanted me to complete my trek. It was difficult, but not impossible.

As we neared base camp, I began seeing more helicopters in the air—some flying just above my head. It felt like a scene from the famous film Lakshya. I did feel scared when one helicopter flew so close that I ducked just in time. It gave me quite a fright.

I was breathless at the top—indeed—with low oxygen levels. Diamox pills were my saviors. My body ached at times, and I couldn’t sleep well at night. But this was to be expected; this was no tea party—we were on a dangerous peak. It got colder and colder as we ascended. Though we had hot water at the lodges, I hardly had the energy to bathe. I just wanted to reach base camp and touch the summit. My resolve was strong.

Many in the group thought I wouldn’t be able to make it—but I did, and surprisingly, it was a breeze for me. I even managed to smoke a cigarette or two with some of the Sherpas. Some of the younger trekkers were amazed by my fitness.
“I’m fifty-one today, you know, and you guys are still in your thirties—yet I managed to climb this far,” I said, almost mockingly, to a few of the younger guys in our group.

At times, even I was amazed at my agility. I would take deep breaths and rest often, especially during steep climbs. We were doing eight-hour treks daily—it was no cakewalk. But the excitement and the enchantment of Everest were all I needed to pull me toward my goal.
“This is going to be a lifetime experience to remember,” my friends from Delhi had messaged me.

There were many places along the way where Wi-Fi was almost non-existent, so I couldn’t contact my bankers or well-wishers back home—but I didn’t mind. We were on an adventure. When I finally climbed onto the rock inscribed with EVEREST BASE CAMP, the batteries of my mobile phone died. I had to beg my Sherpa, Sudeep, to take pictures on his phone and send them to me later.

Yes, I was exhausted. My limbs ached, my stomach churned, and my body was sore—but the experience was exhilarating and absolutely worth it.

The descent was even better. I took two helicopter rides to get back to Kathmandu, avoiding a bus ride from Ramchek, as I had vomited on the way up. The helicopter ride was much more soothing and fun.

Yes, I was breathless at the top—but the excitement carried me forward. The mighty Everest stood in front of me, waiting to be conquered—and I had done it. I even had a trophy to show for it, and countless stories to narrate to my friends and well-wishers on the way back.