The Yeti syndrome

Yet another myth goes viral

The apparent “discovery” of Yeti footprints by an Indian army mountaineering expedition last week is a reflection of sorts of a growing trend in the national public discourse. After some centuries of earnest search, including in the last one, scientists and biologists have reliably concluded that the Yeti is about as real as the Loch Ness monster or Bigfoot. So how did mountaineers attempting to summit the world's fifth-highest peak suspend disbelief and convince themselves that the mega-sized footprints they photographed belonged to this mythical beast? Could it be the result of oxygen deprivation in the rarefied air?

Himalayan mountaineers over the decades report all sorts of visions in the “death zone” — that is above 26,000 feet, where there is insufficient oxygen to support human life. For instance, Reinhold Messner, the celebrated alpinist who summited Mount Everest solo and without oxygen in 1980, imagined the ghost of George Mallory, who disappeared during a summit attempt in 1924, guiding him down the perilous north-east ridge during his descent in a storm. Now, Makalu is over 27,000 feet but the base camp where the footprints were discovered is roughly 17,000 feet above sea level, low enough for reasonably fit trekkers to access. If oxygen deprivation can be ruled out, what explains the army expedition’s decision to jump the gun and tweet this dubious discovery? The rate at which the tweet went viral is indicative of the credulous nature of the Indian public. Only some of the response was disbelieving — one former MP of saffron persuasion instantly tweeted out his congratulations. No surprise, the international media reported on the “discovery” in amused undertones.

But this is not the first time that India has been rocked by such miracles. In the last decade of the 20th century, long before the advent of social media, the myth of the milk-drinking Ganesh gained such wide credence that reasonably sane individuals felt compelled to coax images of the elephant god to sip spoons of milk — on national TV. Only the manifest failure of this “experiment” countrywide staunched the rumour even if no one explicitly acknowledged the hoax. In the 21st century, this trend of conflating myth and reality found fresh impetus with the emergence of politicians of muscular nationalist inclination. They strive to draw a connection between India’s “Golden Age” (itself a discredited theory among serious historians) embedded in the mists of pre-history and India’s impending greatness (if, of course, these people were voted to power).

Thus, over the years, the electorate is regularly treated to such novel theories as ancient India's knowledge of plastic surgery (which is how, we are informed, Ganesh came to acquire his elephant head) to the possession of nuclear capabilities (thanks to the Sudarshan chakra and assorted mythic materiel). When such information is imparted by senior politicians to an imperfectly educated public, it tends to acquire a dangerous credibility, more so when it is linked to modern India’s scientific and military achievements. If an Indian Air Force MiG can apparently shoot down an F16 in Pakistani airspace and our space scientists can demonstrate the capability to blow low-orbiting enemy satellites to smithereens, the sensational discovery of the abominable snowman by our brave soldiers would have been an opportune nationalist cause celebre. If only biologists had not played spoilsport and clarified that the abnormally large footprints were probably the overlapping paws of a Himalayan brown bear and a cub (the effect of the sun on ice accounts for the enlargement).

The Yeti continues to figure in folklore and myth even today. Even Hergé created one of his more memorable Tintin stories around it, and it still figures in Bengali popular entertainment. As with the subcontinent’s abundant legacy of myths and legends, these stories enrich our society and speak volumes for the richness of our collective imagination. Trying to retrofit them into a tangible reality is futile but also reflects a somewhat pathetic effort at achieving fame.