For a young Sherpa boy in the sixties, steeped in the lore of Tenzing Norgay and his good friend Hillary, it was nothing short of a miraculous visitation, when my mother surprised me with “Hillary Saab and Agu Tenzing are coming to our house this afternoon, so don’t go off tramping around, and make sure you are here to greet them”. Those were the magical days of my childhood in Kalimpong, 40 years ago. We were not wanting of heroes then. We read Zane Grey westerns and watched Audie Murhpy fight off injuns at the Kanchan hall, read snippets about the wizard Pele who dribbled past eight players and scored goals at will. But Tenzing was our own, someone we knew proudly and boasted of to my friends as my Agu (Uncle). He and Hillary had conquered the insurmountable and in a post world war era, they were the beacons of hope. Tenzing was a frequent visitor to our house and a great friend of my parents. I knew of Edmund Hillary only through Tenzing’s biography and to me he was this distant white giant that somehow was irritatingly always spoken of in the same breath when one asked about who was the first to climb Everest. We all desperately wanted Tenzing to be the only one and it irked me that we Sherpas had to share our glory with someone else.