By Ganesh Saili
Much is known about Everest, the mountain, but little is known about the man it was named after. His niece tells us that ‘circumstances, into which I cannot now enter, led to the destruction of nearly all written memorials of his life.’
‘It was not Everest but his officers,’ wrote an admirer, adding, ‘They placed his name just a little nearer the stars than that of any other lover of the eternal glory of the mountains.’ Ignored was Radhanath Sikdar, who, legends say, burst into his superior’s office exclaiming: ‘Sir! I have just discovered the highest peak in the world!’
Pic courtesy: Author’s Collection
In her delightful ‘Dehradun’, published by the BACSA, Aylmer Jean Galsworthy recounts how she came across an exchange of correspondence between Young and Everest. Apparently, Everest had received some papers regarding his pension, which addressed him as Kumpasswala.
An irate note followed: ‘I am not a Kumpasswala but Surveyor General and superintendent of the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India. These are the appellations by which my masters address me, and no person has a right to withhold them from me. As I never apply nicknames to any other person, and studiously avoid offending others, I have a right to look for equal courtesy in return, and I hope you will prevent such offensive epithets appearing in any public paper intended to meet the eye, or wherein I may be spoken of.’
Pic courtesy: Author’s Collection
Young replied that while he did not notice anything disrespectful, it was the designation commonly applied to the Survey Department. ‘If I could have supposed it likely to offend, I should have ordered it to be corrected. I feel convinced that no disrespect could have been intended on the part of the petitioners, because they could not possibly gain anything by this insolence… I have given directions that no public document shall pass my office in which you are designated by any other title than Surveyor General Sahib Bahadur.’
Cantankerous Everest plied on: ‘I never entertained the belief that you intended me any offence… I objected to a low, familiar, appellative, which, though it may be in common use in the bazaar, I cannot allow to be applied to me as my official designation. The Commissioner…always designates me in his parwanas…by the title of Surveyor General Kishwar Hind, which is a literal translation of that assigned to me by my masters. I shall be obliged by your adopting that designation!’
Trouble knocked again when objections came from rich households over the occupation of vantage points by surveyors, which, sometimes, provided a grandstand view of the zenanahs. Of course, these wishes had to be respected, but Everest could not resist a parting shot: ‘The Surveyor should withdraw to a less convenient situation, where he might build a tower to any height he liked. The cost of the move would be paid for by the Zamindar, who must have money in superfluity to be willing to incur so vast a charge for an object so insignificant as that of removing ten or twenty paces. An edifice which, since it must surpass all circumjacent dwellings, would equally command a view of his zenana for people disposed to be impertinent and curious at the distance of a quarter of a mile.’
He mocked: “Persuaded that our telescope, which in fact, has magic powers, and can turn women upside down (an indecent posture, no doubt, and is very shocking to contemplate), it is natural enough that they should assign to us the propensity of sitting all day long spying through stone walls at those whom they deem so enchanting.’
‘But the Great Trigonometrical Survey is a department of hard work where employees, with barely time for sleep or meals, rarely have leisure for such trifling as Zalim Singh anticipates, even if their taste were so ill-regulated, and their lot so forlorn, as to become prey to speculative amusement.’
After years of neglect, the land was acquired by the U.P. Tourism. Uttarakhand has leased it to a chopper company, apparently for ‘a mere song.’ When these clouds clear, I might join the gawking tourists to get an aerial look at the place I call home.
Ganesh Saili, born and home-grown in the hills, belongs to those select few whose words are illustrated by their own pictures. Author of two dozen books, some translated into twenty languages, his work has found worldwide renown.
