Competitors?

PART 1: Cold war made personal

"Om Namo Shivay!",  the pilot prayed for a comfortable landing. While the Indian army's French-origin Cheetah helicopter neared the helipad, Bill's greyish blue eyes had been gazing down keenly for the past several minutes like those of an eagle. He had been surveying the terrain of the India-Bhutan border. After the chopper landed, Bill disembarked, collected his equipment and backpack while thanking the pilot.

He then looked up at Mount Crown. He took out his Galileo binoculars and focused on the peak. "Last stretch elevation close to seventy degrees.", he murmured.

As the flying machine whirred away, Bill spotted a rugged military Tata truck already parked on the road, some forty yards from the basecamp with a couple of armed Indian army personnel standing nearby.

Bill then noticed a muscular Caucasian man of medium height with a receding hairline standing with a knife in hand practicing fighting moves. He inferred this must be Vladimir, his Soviet counterpart. As Bill approached Vladimir, he could hear some faint music which was dominated by nasal male vocals and a shrill tune. As he reached, he took out two reasonably cold cans of Coke from his huge over-sized bag. He offered one to Vladimir with a warm smile:

"Cheers Major! I am Captain Bill from the US infantry fourteenth division. Have a drink with me..."

Vladimir turned down the volume of his red Amfiton cassette player lying on the ground and retorted bluntly:

"Net. People choose to come via helicopter yet arrive late. Congratulations on being rich. You belong to a nation which has been hostile to ours since the second World war. Who knows...you might be CIA. Our people and your people can never work together. Keep your cola-cola to yourself and keep your hands off my stock of Stoli."

Bill, taken aback by the brashness responded: "You seem fat sir. Are you even fit for this?"

To which Vladimir replied, "I am sure I am fitter than an American sniper on a Burger-cola diet whose day job is to lie camouflaged all day.".

"Fine then. Let us compete for who gets to the top first. If I win, you drink this can of Coke.".

"Hah! In your dreams you cola-capitalist.", Vladimir rebutted.

"And what is this Russian singing about? Raising a heady toast of Vodka to the ideals of Communism?", Bill hissed back.

The Russian raised an eyebrow and replied, "Ah! At least its not that lady Michael Jackson. Its not a Russian but an old Hindi song. A good one to hear if one is preparing to walk a long distance with a backpack.".

None of the men continued further and disengaged.

As the expedition began, both men started finding the going tough. Their backs ached carrying their heavy backpacks. It was getting extremely cold. Both men had hardly eaten for days as they were running short of their canned food. Their small tent had started giving into the wind, allowing the cold mountain air to seep in at night, making their sleeping bags ineffective. Perhaps their suffering was the only thing common between them. But as expected, they hardly talked to share what each was going through.

One day, climbing became tedious as the slope became steep. The unpredictable ground with the melting snow causing a problem in gripping was as treacherous as a battlefield prepared by Sun Tzu. The fog was making the visibility poor, completely hiding the top of Mount Crown. The air was getting chilly and was getting thinner and thinner with altitude, making it difficult to breathe.

Just then, Bill spotted a Snow Leopard, an elusive big cat native to the Himalayas which was seldom sighted. The beautiful creature was moving past them rather quickly. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, the American put down his walking stick, pulled out his Canon camera to shoot.

Vladimir who was walking in front cautioned, "You are getting distracted from the mission at hand Captain".

Bill focused on the exotic mountain mammal, clicked in no time like a pro, pocketed the camera and defended with a silly smile, "See, that was easy!".

Suddenly, Bill slipped, fell a few feet and hung with just one hand on the edge of the cliff, his Casio watch's glass now cracked by the impact. His fate looked to be a certain fall to death. Vladimir looked back. Bill exclaimed as he took a jibe:

"Go ahead! What makes you look back huh? Thirsty for Coke?"

Vladimir first looked ahead at the path. He then looked back again and peered at the scary, vast valley below as the American wondered whether the Russian had understood him well. Bill was hanging a good 9 vertical feet below where Vladimir stood. Vladimir could see that to save Bill, one would need to risk their own life. He gave Bill a determined look and said...

"You know...Bill...if that is your real name...in the USSR, we comrades have a code of honour: Whatever be our differences....when we Soviets decide to fight together, we never betray. We win or lose together.".

Saying so, Vladimir swiftly dropped his backpack, took out a strong cable, nailed it on the ground with a hammer, wrapped it around his waist and dived. He was now suspended just a few feet above Bill who was flabbergasted. Vladimir offered his hand while shouting loudly words that echoed in the mountains...

"Give me your hand!"

Bill looked down...but there was no time to think as his arm was getting tired. In a leap of faith, he pushed his shoes against the cliff's little slippery slope below...and grasped Vladimir's hand with a nervous grip. Then, Vladimir fastened the cable's end from his waist to Bill's hand as well to secure him and pulled both of them out.

Soon thereafter, they became fast friends who enjoyed sharing the limited food they had. They overcame challenges together showing great teamwork. They reached the summit on a clear full moon night after a rather exhausting climb. They finally celebrated with a cocktail of Stoli in Coke can.

"We have done it Vlad...we have reached the summit...we now sit on the throne of the Crown! We rule the world!" shouted Bill with excitement.

"To our meeting! To our friendship! To your health!", Vladimir toasted, happily but conservatively as he knew they had to return as well.

They then hoisted the flag of the organization that had summoned them for this expedition. They reached the basecamp and were greeted with garlands by the locals.

They entered the Guinness book of world records that year. They were decorated with medals...presented by their own respective military heads of course.

Both stayed in touch via mail for a while. Bill even sent a picture postcard of the Snow Leopard he had captured on film as a memento.

Then the frequency of posts diminished as they moved on with their lives.