Kathmandu: Kishangarh entrepreneur and mountaineer Anurag Maloo’s descent from Mount Annapurna is a story of three miracles. First, that he was found. Second, that he was found alive. And third, that his body was rescued.
A seven-member team of five sherpas and two foreign mountaineers risked their lives to pull Anurag’s unconscious body out of a deep crevasse. There was no living being around, nothing else in sight except white snow. He lay buried under snow for two whole days, braving the cold without any extra oxygen — an avalanche on 19 April put him in an even more perilous position. The final rescue efforts were delayed by two days. And each moment of those days were nerve-wracking and precious, for both the first responders and Anurag. His survival was nothing short of impossible.
His touch-and-go ordeal underlines the glory and the grave danger of summiting. Anurag lies in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). He hasn’t yet regained consciousness but is stable.
Anurag is the second Indian to be rescued from Mount Annapurna this week. Baljeet Kaur went missing around the same time as him — and was even assumed to be dead, with a condolence message going viral on 18 April. A few hours later on the same day, she was rescued in a death-defying mission, airlifted to safety.
Acute mountain sickness (AMS) had already kicked in. She had been without oxygen for at least 36 hours at the time of rescue, and hallucinating. She was completely alone on the mountain, with not a soul in sight. Voices were telling her to give in, to leave her anchor and “fly” off the mountain: one part of her brain was trying to kill her, the other part trying to save her. She kept slapping herself awake, chanting “Get up, leave, get up, don’t lose, get up.”
Time had stopped having any meaning for her. But in her state of delirium, she took out her phone to listen to Gurbani. She registered the time: 7:56 am, on 18 April. And then she saw the SOS sign on the device: she sent out an emergency alert, kickstarting her rescue.
It was only when she made it back to the Annapurna Base Camp that she heard that her close friend Anurag was missing. The dread set in again.
Baljeet was one of the last people to see him conscious: at around 3pm on 16 April, the two had actually crossed paths between the mountain summit and Camp 4, while she was ascending and he was descending.
She described Anurag as disheartened and upset over not being able to summit the mountain.
Baljeet recalls begging Anurag to be cautious, to tread carefully, and to stay in control of his mind. “Pay attention, Anurag, be careful,” she remembers saying. His response was vague and hazy — she could tell from his body language that AMS had set in, and that he was sick: she remembers that he couldn’t buckle his safety hook.
“I still can’t believe this,” says Baljeet, while eating her first proper meal in days after being discharged from a Kathmandu hospital on 22 April. Still weak and barely able to walk herself — her toes bandaged to manage her chilblain — she made her way to Pashupatinath Temple to pray for Anurag’s recovery.
“When he comes back to life, I’ll only kill him.”
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The uphill climb
Baljeet was the second person to notice something was wrong with Anurag.
Chhepal Sherpa, an expert mountaineer guide, also crossed paths with Anurag around noon on 16 April. “He was in no shape,” he said. “He was just concentrating on making the summit.”
“I said, Anurag Maloo, please, this is very dangerous. If you summit at 5pm, how will you come back? You need energy,” Chhepal added.
He advised him to rest and not continue with his climb up the mountain — he was slow and sluggish, and looked weak. The AMS had already set in, and Anurag was attempting to summit Annapurna without oxygen. Chhepal was worried about Anurag, but continued his descent on his own expedition with his clients.
To his relief, Anurag decided not to summit that day and try another window. But the journey was still treacherous: they would all have to cross an avalanche-prone area. This is where Anurag faltered.
The third person to caution Anurag was also the last person to see him conscious.
Brazilian mountaineer Moeses Fiamoncini was descending from Camp III with Anurag and his sherpa at the same time on 17 April. There were three ropes they could use to rappel down: Fiamoncini began his descent, when suddenly he looked up and noticed that Anurag was hooking himself to the wrong rope.
The rope was meant to carry goods, not humans. And it was too short.
The inevitable happened: despite Fiamoncini screaming “Stop it, stop it!” Anurag began his descent on the short rope, slipped, and fell into the deep 70 metre crevasse. His body hit Fiamoncini as he fell.
“He was looking down, but I don’t think he was seeing anything. And then the rope ended and he just…fell down maybe 8 or 10 metres?” recalled Fiamoncini. “And then he rolled into the crevasse. I was still rappelling down the mountain.”
Fiamoncini paused for a moment on the mountain face — mid-descent — to understand what had just happened, before gathering his wits and focusing on his own safety. The panic would have to wait — but judging by the fall, the depth of the crevasse and the weather conditions, Fiamoncini was sure Anurag wouldn’t have survived. Somehow, he pushed through the fear and completed his descent, and rushed to alert the sherpas.
Anurag fell at around 2:30 in the afternoon on 17 April. Chhepal heard the news from Anurag’s sherpa, who radioed him to say Anurag had fallen into a crevasse. He immediately began putting a plan into action, aided by Anurag’s insurance company, ASC360, in Kathmandu. He called people to bring skis and rope long enough to lift him out. ASC360 organised helicopters for aerial searches on the 17 April, but visibility was low. They would have to wait until the next day — at least twelve hours — to try and attempt a rescue. But the issue was also finding fit sherpas who would be willing to risk their lives to save Anurag, especially without knowing if he was dead or alive. “No one wanted to risk their own lives, it was hard to convince people to rescue,” said Chhepal.
On 18 April, while Anurag’s brothers Aashish Maloo and Sudhir Maloo rushed to Nepal, Chhepal began the first of two rescue missions.
Both failed.
But at least they had properly located where Anurag was, and had a better understanding of the crevasse he had fallen into. It was a tiny, tiny hole that expanded into a larger cavernous space connected by three holes. On 19 April, an avalanche delayed plans even further. The possibility of his survival was getting dimmer and dimmer.
It was a breathless race against time now.
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The rescue operation
No one knew if Anurag was dead or alive during those two days. But those leading rescue operation on the ground in Kathmandu were determined: they would get him out of Annapurna’s clutches.
Anurag’s friend and motivational speaker Sounak Bhatta began coordinating logistics. He’d only met Anurag twice — several years ago in Islamabad, and a few months ago in Kathmandu. But there was something about Anurag, said Bhatta.
“It was a hundred per cent effort for a one per cent possibility,” said Bhatta. “This was a battle between extreme pessimism and extreme optimism.”
Bhatta and Anurag’s brothers ran from pillar to post to mobilise efforts. Thanks to Fiamoncini and Chhepal’s intel, they knew where Anurag was located, but didn’t know how deep into the crevasse he was, or which angle he had fallen at. A WhatsApp group with around 500 people was quickly formed, and suggestions on how to rescue him were being crowdsourced. Mountaineers on the group were suggested rescue tactics, while others were from NGOs and were trying to pool in as many resources as they could, from contacts to setting up a petition page on Change.org. The Indian Embassy was contacted, as well as several other politicians. The Office of the President of Nepal also contacted Bhatta to offer help. ASC360, the insurance company, put all their cards on the table and agreed to cover as much of the cost as they could.
“Whatever happens, I don’t care. I will return with my brother,” Aashish kept repeating to whoever would listen.
They started collecting devices that could help locate Anurag: thermal cameras, carbon dioxide detectors, metal detectors and specialised drones. The Nepali armed forces lent them a drone, a nonprofit arranged for thermal cameras, Tribhuvan University organised the carbon dioxide detectors, and metal detectors came from Seven Summit Treks, the company that Chhepal belonged to and Anurag had hired for this particular trek. Unfortunately, the devices were held up at the Kathmandu airport as Anurag’s brother Aashish rushed to Pokhara on 19 April, accompanied by people from Seven Summit Trek’s company and the armed forces.
All of Nepal’s mountaineering ecosystem came together to help — from expert mountaineers to local sherpas to the government. It took a village.
What worked finally? “Just rope and courage,” said Bhatta. “Immense courage.”
And some courage it required. Chhepal assembled a seven-member team including himself, Lakpa Nurbu Sherpa, Dawa Nurbu Sherpa, Lakpa Sherpa, Tashi Sherpa, and two expert foreign mountaineers — Adam Bielecki and Mariusz Hatala. At around 7am on 20 April, Bielecki and Tashi entered the crevasse, and found Anurag’s body buried under snow. They presumed he was dead — until Bielecki noticed that his body was responding.
The urgency intensified: Anurag was alive. They managed to lift him out in around four hours, and rescue pilot Sobit Gauchan helicoptered them to Pokhara. The entire operation took six hours.
When the chopper landed with Anurag around 1pm, those waiting for him couldn’t believe what was happening. Bhatta just remembers clapping jubilantly, and could feel the palpable relief in the air.
It was against all odds — Anurag had survived, despite being buried under snow in a deep crevasse 6,000m high, after going days without oxygen supply.
Somehow, Annapurna had decided to let him go.
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Shadow of the mountain
Baljeet knows that mountains are unforgiving. But to her, they’re also her home.
“The mountains are like my family. I don’t fight with them — and I think that’s why the mountains saved me. I trust the mountains. They aren’t going anywhere,” she said. “So if the mountains present you with difficult conditions, you have to accept it and make the right decisions. I didn’t want to set a record this time, I just wanted to stay alive.”
The risk is part of the appeal for mountaineers, who tend to flirt with mortality because “they crave a feeling of control over their lives,” according to research by sports psychologist and mountaineer Mathew Barlow.
As quoted by the BBC, Barlow’s research shows that mountaineers, when compared to other athletes, have an outsized “expectancy of agency.” They also exhibit counterphobia — which is when one faces their fear head-on rather than avoiding it. The risk makes the climb more thrilling, which is why mountaineers often end up taking on more challenging routes and circumstances.
The desire for success — and to summit the peak — overtakes the need for safety. The competition is cutthroat and covert: despite being a community, mountaineers are also trying to one-up each other. And when there’s a drive to set world records, or push the boundaries of adventure sports, physical fitness takes a backseat. It’s why these athletes are constantly looking for the next impossible task, moving mountains to make it happen.
Scaling a mountain is also a matter of national pride: Anurag is a recipient of the Karmaveer Chakra Award, a global civilian honour given in partnership with the UN. He’s also the 2041 Antarctic Youth Ambassador from India, and is actively engaged in creating awareness and driving action towards achieving the UN Global Goals. Baljeet is the first Indian woman to summit the 8,163 metre Mount Manaslu without oxygen, and was attempting to repeat this goal by summiting Annapurna.
Nepal is the mountaineers’ Mecca — the land of the Himalayas is home to eight mountains above 8,000 metre, the most famous ones being Mount Everest, Kanchenjunga, and Annapurna.
And the Nepal government recognises the value this industry brings to the country. “It’s easy to say that mountaineering is the base of our tourism,” said Yubaraj Khatiwada, director of Nepal’s Department of Tourism (Mountaineering), listing the other economic activities that revolve around the sport. Many locals are opting to work as expedition guides — and Khatiwada says that one expedition team would need around 15 people to succeed.
The team he’s referring to is usually organised by companies like Seven Summits Treks, which Anurag had hired. These companies employ sherpas to accompany intrepid mountaineers as they scale peaks.
The number of people who have taken to mountaineering has also increased. Films like Fourteen Peaks and Summit Fever play a part in fuelling the growing industry, inspiring people to take on the challenge for themselves. As a result, the industry has gotten hungrier, if not watered down. The age-old tug of war between quantity and quality has led to more and more inexperienced trekkers and sherpas taking on challenges they might not be properly trained for.
And money plays a role in all this too — it’s not cheap to summit a mountain. This is why accomplished mountaineers like Baljeet and Anurag rely on sponsorships, and have to keep pushing themselves to do better.
The race for sponsorships and recognition also creates cutthroat competition within the mountaineering world. But competition doesn’t win over life. When Baljeet realised her life was in danger, her muscle memory kicked in even as her mind faltered. She hooked her own carabiner to the chopper that had come to rescue her despite being in a state of total delirium.
“The mind doesn’t work properly at that altitude,” she said, explaining some of her hallucinations. “And with Anurag, he was already disappointed that he did not summit the mountain. That depression makes things even worse.”
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Rescued, recovering
Anurag’s heart wasn’t beating when he reached the hospital in Pokhara. Over the next three hours, doctors performed CPR to bring him back to life and regularise his breathing.
The rescue was an inconceivable success — his family and friends were triumphant, having pursued every avenue of help with resolute faith in Anurag’s survival.
He was flown from Pokhara to a hospital in Kathmandu on the evening of 20 April, and continues to be in a critical condition there. His family and doctors have decided to keep him in Kathmandu until his condition improves, and then move him to continue treatment in either New Delhi or Mumbai. On 24 April, it was reported that his eyes fluttered when his name was called — a marked sign of improvement.
Prateek Gupta, founder and CEO of Adventure Sports Cover (ASC) 360 claims his company provides insurance to 99 per cent of Indian mountaineers. ASC360 are India’s biggest adventure insurer for search and rescue operations and medical evacuation.
Gupta’s the one calling the shots when it comes to rescue operations, because he was financing it. The rescue teams always get in touch with ASC360 first, to find out how the mountaineer is covered and what the rescue should look like — because they’re the ones sanctioning the money. The insurance coverage for 8000 metre peaks can be anywhere between $100,000-$300,000.
The prospects were looking bleak. By the 18th, ASC360 had exhausted the money set aside for Anurag’s search and rescue. Gupta called the Maloos, sat them down, and asked them what they would like to do. They came up with a plan — to go to the Indian government for help. At 7 am on 19 April, they met with the Indian Embassy. By 1pm, the Indian Embassy agreed after intense negotiations and several local Marwaris in Kathmandu — the Maloos’ community — also came forward to offer financial assistance. They put down a token amount of Rs 10 lakh as a deposit for the Seven Summit team, to motivate the Sherpas to take on the risky rescue.
Baljeet’s rescue on the 18 April — also financed by Gupta — had provided a much needed boost to Anurag’s rescue. If she could survive, so could he. And finally, the Indian Embassy covered the cost of Anurag’s search and rescue operation, and ASC360 covered the medical cost. The government of Rajasthan is also expected to chip in, since Anurag is a resident of Kishangarh.
“I guess I’m the producer of this mad movie,” said Gupta. “I never panic. You can’t panic in this line of work. The only thing that happened was that I always had faith, I was chanting everyday.”
ASC360 has rescued around 3,50,000 people in the last five years, but Baljeet and Anurag’s cases were rare. Conducting a rescue at such high altitudes — Baljeet was lost at 7,300 metre and Anurag at around 6,000 — is incredibly dangerous, especially for the pilots flying at such heights. Weather conditions are extreme, visibility low, and chances of mishap high. But both operations, conducted within two days of each other, were successful.
“As they say,” said Gupta, “Hope is the best decision.”
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The wait to wake up
Anurag’s goal is to scale all fourteen peaks above 8000 metre. He was aiming to summit six peaks in one month, according to some of his mountaineering colleagues.
It’s ambitious, but not impossible. But Anurag’s fitness level needs to be better for it — and his fall into the crevasse only signalled that he wasn’t yet ready to scale Annapurna with no oxygen, they said.
A group of mountaineers ponder over the recklessness while Baljeet eats her first meal since being discharged — watermelon juice, dal makhani, rice, rotis, and mushroom curry.
One of them is about to lead a trek to the Everest Base Camp, while the other is off to summit Annapurna with oxygen. Neither are daunted by what their close friends have just been through. Baljeet isn’t either — she’s already making plans for her next trek, but will go back home to Solan in Himachal Pradesh first.
“I never thought I would die at Annapurna,” says Baljeet. “I feel mehfooz (safe) in the mountains.”
Her friend Satya, also a mountaineer from Puranpur, interjected. “But your experience should also teach people how important training is. Mountaineering isn’t easy, it’s not some sort of luxury tourist experience. Everyone just wants to scale Everest and say they’ve done that — but there are tougher peaks than Everest, and people just don’t realise what they’re signing up for,” he said. “Mountains and mountains. You have to respect them.”
Baljeet agreed. “People need to go to an institution and train. We have great government institutions in India. Don’t get into this luxury, tourist thing. If I had depended completely on a sherpa to guide me, or not known what to do, I would have died,” she said.
The group fell silent. The fact that Anurag is still fighting for his life has cast a pall over Baljeet’s miraculous rescue, and the fact that she hadn’t gotten any injuries like frostbite or ligament tears.
The mountaineering community is tight-knit: after all, how many people can understand the desire to put oneself in such danger to conquer peaks? As Baljeet ate lunch, her mountaineering friends dropped by to give her hugs and well wishes. They discuss their own near-death accidents, swapping stories of when they’ve crossed paths across the Himalayas.
These are relationships formed over years. But they don’t always travel or trek together: each hardcore mountaineer is chasing a different high, trying to meet a different goal, and so they don’t want to come in each other’s’ way.
“Let’s go?” Baljeet asked, as she wrapped up her meal. Everyone at the table immediately understands where she wants to go: the famous Pashupatinath Temple, to pray for Anurag’s recovery. Every pilgrimage up a Nepali mountain begins and ends at this temple for Baljeet. And this time, she also has her survival to be thankful for.
The prayers for Anurag continue. He’s alive, and he’s safe, but he’s not yet out of the woods. His family held a press conference in Kathmandu on 23 April to express their gratitude for all those who had tried to help during the rescue efforts.
“It’s nothing short of a miracle,” repeated Aashish Maloo, standing in front of a screen that declares “Anurag Is Back.”
The famous French mountaineer Maurice Herzog wrote this last line in his seminal book Annapurna on leading the first conquest of the 8,000 meter peak in 1950: “There are other Annapurnas in the lives of men.”
Now Anurag just needs to wake up.
(Edited by Anurag Chaubey)