[Contd./ 1)





Simultaneously president and chief of army staff, Musharraf bestrides his country like a colossus in a khaki toga, unlike his Indian counterpart whom he sees constricted within the coils of a coalition. He genuinely cannot understand why the Indians will not agree with him, no more than he can understand why Pakistanis cannot do his bidding. He has managed to train them to salute a uniform, but somehow he cannot get them to march in step nor in QuickTime.


His recent speeches reveal a note of exasperation, almost desperation, as he sees his avowed goal -- Pakistan as "a dynamic, progressive, and moderate Islamic state" -- slip beyond his grasp, and perhaps beyond his tenure. However pure and altruistic Musharraf's intentions may be, he shares the predicament of a Texan rodeo rider -- how does one dismount safely, and when?


To his admirers, Musharraf's candid autobiography provides a window into his heart; to his publishers, a window of lucrative opportunity; to his critics, a window into the darker recesses of his schizophrenic mind that can allow him to follow two contrary policies simultaneously; and to posterity, a window that masquerades as a door opening into the future of history.


Early in its pages, Musharraf draws a revealing analogy between a potter's craft and the preparation of an army cadet. "A cadet in a military academy is like clay on the wheel. When he is shaped, he is let loose in the oven of army life. How good a soldier he becomes depends on the fire that bakes him every day of his life in the army." For civilians who every day watch the inexorable permeation by the terracotta soldiers of the Pakistan army into every aspect of the governance of their country, the analogy with a potter is all too apposite -- even down to the feet of clay.








[Published in FORUM, Vol. 1, No.1. Nov. 2006.]