[Tashi Gyalzen Sherpa, a 29-year old climber from Phortse, Solukhumbu, climbed Mount Everest four times in mere 15 days, shocking not only the mountaineering fraternity but also the entire human world with this almost impossible feat he performed as if it were a child’s play. The summiteer had announced his intent through the press sometimes earlier, revealing that he wanted to accomplish the feat in 20 days. This gave him his catchword cross ‘Mission 4×20’ which his T-shirt proudly exhibits. However, he cracked the nut in mere 15 days, registering his name in the Guinness Book of World Records. Altogether he has made to the ‘Third Pole’ nine times. He still brims with higher dreams and more of such sensational would-be miracles. Researcher Shiva Gaire and Sahitya Post English’s Executive Editor Mahesh Paudyal have tried to peek into the subtle world of his extraordinary prowess and amazing dreams.]
Tashi Delek, Tashi. So you have a golden tooth in your upper jaw. It sparkles like the golden peak of Everest glittering at dawn. What is the symbolism?
Tashi Delek, Sirs! Yes, it has an emotional story. I had a close friend, a climber named Rima Rinje Sherpa from Kharikhola. Though we ran into each other on a trekking route, we became fast friends in no time. We were of similar ages and nourished similar dreams. Rinje had a gilded tooth in his upper jaw. To my utter dismay, he was caught in an avalanche in Annapurna during a climb and he lost his life. The news devastated me. Before long, one of my teeth decayed, leaving me fretting in pain. It became acute while I was in Dhaka for a photo exhibition in June last. There, a mountaineer friend of mine and my former client Ikramul Hasan Shakil. Shakil, a UNDP Youth and Environment Advocate, offered to take me to a dentist named Dr. Shahanz. When the latter suggested me a replacement, I chose the gilded tooth in memory of my lost friend Rinje. This is how the tooth came, Sirs.
What a sublime symbol of friendship! Incredible, Tashi. We are sorry for the loss of your friend. Summiting, after all, comes with a cost and sometimes it is as heavy as life. By the way, how did you come to befriend Bangladeshi climber Shakil?
Shakil is an ambitious climber. He was honing this “Sea to Summit” mission, intending to scale all terrestrial heights, from sea level to the top of the world. He had been at the sea-level height many times before but wanted to materialize his Everest summit dream soon. For the same he happened to sign up with 8K Expeditions, and the agency I was working for. The agency assigned me the task of guiding Shakil to the top. When I did it in May 2025, his “Sea to Summit” dream materialized. He was so happy with me that he invited me to Dhaka, where we exhibited our Everest summit photos. This is how I became his friend and got the opportunity to visit Dhaka, my first travel abroad.
This means, you worked so hard for a client’s dream. Perhaps this is also true for other Sherpas, who risk their lives for fulfilling others’ dreams.
That’s it, Sirs. In fact, Sherpas live, work and even die for their clients. Their honesty, hard work and stories are beyond words. But to our utter sadness, they remain unsung heroes, while the clients become the newsmakers. This is regrettable.
Hope, things will change in the days to come. We are aware that climbing is a heritage the Sherpas have built up with much sacrifice. Perhaps you have it in your own family too, with your elders ringing in the climbing bell.
I got it in legacy. My grandfather was himself a climber, and he was in Edmund Hillary’s team. He did not summit, but was a porter and a high-altitude worker. Later, he devoted himself more to social services initiated by Hillary, including hospitals, schools, bridges, etc. My father, Ang Tsering Sherpa, who is 68 now, summited Everest thrice. This is how it all began and trickled down to me too. This family legacy and examples from my peers pushed me to the mountains.
And you do it, fully aware of the risks, including death. Do you inform your family, especially your better half when you go high up on the mountain? The question comes because we have met so many climbers who keep their venture a secret, especially to their wives.
I also know many climbers who do not clearly inform their wives and mothers. This is because they want them to feel no anxiety while they are away, high up on the mountains. In my case I inform. But each time I do, my wife requests me to make it my last climb. Yet the passion lingers, you know, and I rush back to the snows. Sometimes, false news from the mountains pushes our families in trepidation. Once it so happened that we were climbing Mount Sisapangma from the north side, when we were struck by an avalanche. We were climbing in two teams, one after another back-to-back, and from each team, three climbers were lost, while we rescued two. Some papers reported that six climbers were killed and several Sherpas were missing. My wife, who also overhead the news, counted me among those missing and spent several sleepless nights, cooking and eating nothing, lighting butter lamps and praying, and looking out of the window all the time to see if I was returning. High up, we were out of phone network and there was no way we could inform our families that we were safe. When I finally came to the network coverage zone and called her, she half believed that I was safe. She said she wouldn’t believe her ears until I was back home in person. I rushed home and comforted her. Since then, she never easily lets me go. Still, this heart…and the pressing financial needs… you know!
That’s hair-raising. The world knows about summits and records, but few know about these spells of anxieties and sleepless nights back at home. Let’s briefly recall your childhood days and your life before you plunged into mountaineering.
I was born in Phortse. Though poor, my father wanted us to get education. So, he sent me and my brothers to a primary school in our village that ran classes up to the fifth grade. After I graduated from the school, I was sent to do my high school at Edmund Hillary High School in Khumjung. After matriculation, I moved to Kathmandu and joined Lumbini College to do my +2 in Hotel Management. I also sought a cook’s training with CTEVT. Before long, I became a good cook and worked for some time at Hotel Tibet, a four-star facility in Kathmandu, as a cook. Meanwhile, I also got enrolled at Pushpalal Memorial College for a bachelor degree education in journalism, as hotel management would require more money which I could not afford. While I was in the second year, my father caught with an accident. He fell off into a crevice in the mountains and broke one of his legs. He was no longer in a position to work. So, I abandoned my education in Kathmandu and went back to Phortse to look after my family. The need to earn and take care of the family pushed me to the mountains, as there were not many job options in the mountains. I regret having to abandon my education though I knew I had no running away from my responsibilities. If I get a chance to study again, I would certainly love to acquire a degree in journalism.
A journalist-turned mountaineer — sound’s so good, doesn’t it? We wish you realize this dream too, very soon. To get back to your story again, how has Phortse—your village—changed after the dawn of mountaineering?
I have heard from my forerunners that people in Phortse, many years ago, moved up the mountain to Tibet, and down to the plains of Tarai to buy and sell things. Or else, they moved up and down the slopes with their cattle to graze, or to take them to newer meadows with the change in season. This made my folks easy-go commuters of the mountains. Those days, life ran on substantial provisions, and there was no luxury of surplus. Homes used to have stone-slab roofs that leaked every time there was rain or snowfall. After the lure of mountaineering came, the economy of the village changed. To tell you the truth, Sirs, 95% of the households today have mountain climbers, high altitude workers and trekking guides. The remaining 5% are families of the old and the disabled ones with no member capable of climbing. Over the decades, Phurtse has changed a lot. Most of the houses today are tin-roofed. People are better off economically, and the village has developed a lot. There are, however, some backlashes too. For example, while I was in the primary school, the only school in my village use to have a lot of students – almost a hundred of them. But today, when the school has better infrastructure and more qualified teachers, the number of students has dropped dramatically. I could count only 25 of them last year. This is because the parents, who are richer now, send their kids to Kathmandu and other cities for better education, and the village school is suffering from the scarcity of students.
Now that is a sorry state of affairs. On top of that, there is no Sherpa stuff in the current school curriculum. The schools do not teach Sherpa language and Sambota script. What is the cultural ramification of this assortment?
You have rightly caught it Sir. Our education in non-Sherpa languages are taking our youngsters away from our roots. Most of the kids today study in Kathmandu and elsewhere, and that is in itself a detachment. Secondly, they don’t speak Sherpa language. Even in my family in our Kathmandu apartment, we speak Nepali. This means, we and our kids are slowly being detached from our language that is replete with mountain words and religious dictions. I think this will have dire consequences in the long run.
So the Sherpa celebrity and modernization has come at a huge cultural cost though it has its economic merits. We share our feelings of regret with yours. Is it possible that this cultural estrangement will also affect mountaineering? To put it more precisely, when the present climbing generation retires, will the climbers’ kids be ready to inherit the profession? Or, don’t you think less Sherpas may be visible on the climbing track some decades later?
That is already happening. Take Phortse’s case for example. In the past, every climbing season used to see at least 80 people climbing Everest or other high peaks; the number is hardly 25 today. I am sure Sherpa children will not consider climbing a career. We and our forerunners had no option but our kids are face-to-face with multiple career options. They are growing up in the cities—many of the having been born there—and are getting modern education. Why will they go to the mountains to take risks, play with danger, and even embrace undue death? Consider my own case. I am a climber you know, but I am NOT sending my son Thupten Kunga Sherpa to the mountains. There are many like me who won’t send theirs too. People of other communities will take over the climbing track. There is no doubt about that.
Why so?
Because of the risks and danger. On top of that, climbing is a profession that is constrained by age factor. You cannot climb after a certain age, say 60. What after that? No saving, no pension. If there is any casualty up there, the government does not stand with the widows and orphans to manage their living and education. I have seen some foreign aid agencies assisting, but have not seen our government doing anything. The paltry insurance money the survivors get does not suffice even for a few years. All these things have cumulated to build up a sort of apathy.
This means the Sherpa-Mountain identity equation is also slackening, and might completely snap in a couple of decades. What will happen of Sherpa identity then?
Sherpa identity will stand elsewhere, maybe in their culture, or in their religion, that is Buddhism. Uniquely enough, Sherpa Buddhism makes Khumbu a no-killing zone. Besides, the Sherpas are taught by their religion not to hurt others, not even through words. There are plenty of such values that act as the real foundations of Sherpa identity. They needs to be foregrounded.
The future will take its own course, Tashi. Let’s hope all will go well. Combing back to mountaineering, let’s come to that classic story: four Everest summits in 15 days. Even one summit in lifetime is a chimera for most people. Those who climb crack the nut, taking an entire spring or autumn that stretch for two to three months. Some turn around from very close to the summit, surrendering to health complications or bad weather, while there are a few who end up perishing in the mountain. But you made the entire enterprise a child’s play, making 4 summits in 15 days. Please tell us that incredible story.
My family was already replete with climbing stories when I was born in 1996, some 29 years ago. I am sure it has prevailed since my grandfather’s days. But I had to wait until 1917 when I made by debut as a trekking guide. My first summit came in 2019, and incidentally it started with Everest that I climbed from the north (Tibetan) side. I had to face two marginal failures before 1917. My first climb was with foreign team, for which, I had been selected to be a cook. The expedition leaders, however, enlisted me as a climbing Sherpa, seeing my extraordinary performance high up in the danger zone. But then, when we were at the North Col a few meters below the summit, we had to turn to rescue a fallen client, and by the time we had done that, climbing window had closed. In my second expedition, my entire team was barred by bad weather. 2019 was my third try, and I made it. My record four climbs took place recently, in spring 2025. I was working as a member of the rope-fixing team representing 8K Expeditions. I had my first summit on May 9 while fixing the ropes. Soon I returned to Base Camp and started leading my clients, and reached the summit on May 14. I immediately came back to the Base Camp and returned, to make my third climb of the season on May 19, this time guiding my Bangladeshi client Shakil. On May 23, I made the fourth climb and that was a world record. I had initially planned to do this in twenty days, but it happened in fifteen days.
And you became a celebrity like no one ease. A sensation indeed. We can imagine a deluge of felicitations for you.
I was received by members of 8K Expeditions and a few other organizations at the airport when I returned to Kathmandu. That’s all. I don’t remember the government or any of its agencies showing any gesture of felicitation. No. Nothing!! I and other rope-fixers were honored by Expedition Operators’ Association in an event organized to appreciate the Everest and Lhotse Rope-Fixing Team in Kathmandu recently. Save these few, the record transpired with a whimper. Professionally speaking, I had more enquiries from climbing fraternity, and aspiring climbers are already following me. I think I will have better clientele in the days to come.
But the summits opened you the doors for international access. Perhaps you travelled abroad. Or, perhaps you now have options to live outside Khumbu, or even outside Nepal if you want.
I agree that options are more and accessibility is better now, but I that is not what I want. I went to Bangladesh recently, my first international visit, but in those nine days of my stay there, I felt almost suffocated. I was impatient to come back home. No Sherpa would move out if certain irritants of Khumbu’s civic life were solved for once and for all. For, the Sherpas are people of the mountain, and they don’t enjoy as much anywhere else. Let’s take my father for example. After he broke his leg, I brought him to Kathmandu for treatment and rest. But after a stay of say two-weeks or so, he starts nagging me to take him back to the mountains. Some of us live in the cities, but that is because of official and other civic obligations. But the soul always roosts in the mountain.
Is that love for the mountains intact in the new generation?
It loves but doesn’t live there. As the youngsters have moved out, Khumbu villages have become the villages of the elders. We had taken our little son Thupten to Phortse recently. He often recalls the visit and asks when we would go back to his Pala’s (Grandfather’s) village again. Villages have become palas’ villages. Isn’t this indicative of a big change, Sirs?
What next?
I want to do Seven Summits in the near future. But that is not easy, especially because of my financial bottlenecks. I can climb a few, like Nepali peaks and those in Pakistan as a sherpa or guide without the need to pay. However, to climb peaks in other continents, I have to pay a huge amount of fee as royalty and permit fee. I am thinking of using my wages to that end.
Means, you earn from one mountain and will spend on another. What will happen of your family—your father, son and wife—if you get from one mountain and spend on another?
Ha ha. I do three or four summits in a season inside Nepal, and each summit brings me some money. I will spend the wages of a few climbs for my family and save the earning from one or two for Seven Summits. That’s how I have planned things. I also intend to climb all the fourteen 8000 plus peaks, but that is still a remote musing. However, I have already started planning for the Seven Summits.
Considering your zeal and determination, we believe you will do Seven Summits very soon. Record after record. Why the hunt?
I have grown up hearing about record-making Sherpas like Kami Rita, Apa Sherpa and Ang Rita, the Snow Leopard. I want to follow their track. It’s so pleasing, you know.
Means, you want to become the ‘king’ of the enterprise.
Not so. I know there are paltry rooms for more records. Still, it pleases the soul. It is my passionate love for the mountain. When I serve my passion, I become the king of my wishes, don’t I? On top of that, the summits brought me close to intellectual people and writers like you. Isn’t that an achievement?
Perhaps that is. You, the Sherpas, consider many mountains, including Everest, the abodes of your deities. Still you step on their roofs. How do you negotiate your faith and your obligation? Plus, in what way do the reactions of the Sherpa and non-Sherpa climbers differ when they stand on the top?
The mountains are our gods, no doubt. But also have our obligations. So, we perform puja and ask for their apologies. We also make lhap-so (altar) at Base Camps and invite a lama to supervise a worship session. On the top too, we offer khatas and ask the deities to forgive us for defiling their honor. Back at our homes, our families perform puja and light butter lamps for the entire time we are up on the mountain. On the part of the foreigners, I have seen them placing their family photos on the top. Means, they claim a small space on the summit for their family. So, the ways differ.
That is interesting, and can have so many interpretations. Do you think the Sherpas are projected in the ways they should in the international arena, in the books, in the media, or any public forum for that matter?
Oh, no. The Sherpas make the summit happen but they are nowhere in the news except in rare cases. Many times, there is news about people with disability or ripe age climbing Everest. But the truth is, it is the Sherpas who lift or drag them to the top, and the clients appear in the news. The Sherpas are nowhere. I am particularly critical of some films where the Sherpas are undermined, or even depicted in a negative manner. Their patience, honesty and hard work are never appreciated. I am planning a book myself. I will take care of these things in my way.
Thank you for your precious time, Tashi. And good luck for your book. You are so great yet so humble and down-to-earth. You also are intellectual, and your answers are insightful and poetic. That already makes you stand out. You are made up of a different metal. We wish you a great future. Tashi Delek!
Tashi Delek!
