Musharraf, a man of many contradictions
General Pervez Musharraf was a man of contradictions. Some delightful, others disturbing. But he was a lot more than that. He was a snappy dresser who could be irresistibly charming. He also had a way with words. When the Business Standard newspaper congratulated him on his 98% majority in the 2002 presidential “election”, his reply astonished the paper’s reporter. “If you’re being sarcastic, I have nothing to say. If you’re being sincere, I thank you.”
Historians might struggle to resolve Musharraf’s contradictions. A military dictator who twice imposed a state of emergency but also permitted a free press and readily accepted tough interviews. A moderate Muslim who allegedly enjoyed a glass of whisky but also said he was the biggest supporter of the militant Lashkar-e-taiba. The architect of Kargil as the army chief but also the president who came closer than anyone before to a solution of the
Kashmir issue. A usurper whose bloodless coup was popularly welcomed but who transformed into a despised president forced to resign to avoid impeachment. These are the disturbing contradictions.
Let me share two of the more delightful ones.
I first met the general in February 2000. It was barely a month after the Indian Airlines hijack. It was his first interview with an Indian journalist, and since it was to be shown on Doordarshan, I decided to be particularly aggressive. I called the General a dictator. I told him that his sincerity and credibility were utterly suspect. He simply smiled. Indeed, it wasn’t long before I noticed he was unperturbed. During the commercial break, I felt a need to make small talk to keep the relationship going. So, I complimented him on his tie. Then the interview re-started.
Half an hour later, when it ended, the General hosted the crew for tea and snacks. He offered the cameraman a cigarette, kept his hand on the sound recordist’s shoulder and readily laughed at the electrician’s jokes. In minutes, he changed the atmosphere from fraught to friendly. I could sense my colleagues warming to him. As we bid goodbye, the General undid his tie and gave it to me. “I’d like you to have this. Please let me give it to you.”
“Sir, sir, sir”, I stammered. “That was only an innocent remark. I wasn’t hinting or anything.”
“I know”, he replied. “It’s my gesture of conciliation to you.”
“Thank you.” I said, shaken. Then, looking at the gold tie-pin and chain dangling on his shirt, I added with a laugh: “I should have admired the gold chain. Maybe you would have given that to me as well.”
The General roared. “Ha. Aur agar aap ko jootie pasand aaie hoti to woh bhi mil jaati [if you’d liked my shoe, you could have got that as well].”
Over the following years, I interviewed the general multiple times, not just in Islamabad but also in London and Dubai. Of these, the one I remember was in 2009. I wrote to ask if after leaving office he would be willing to talk honestly about his presidency and, in particular, the backchannel negotiations on Kashmir. “Dear Karan,” he replied by email. “Learning the internet now. You are the 1st beneficiary of my technical prowess.”
I’m not sure if that was the truth. I never got around to asking. But it was a flattering way to reply. I framed the email which now hangs in my study.
The interview happened in London a
MUSHARRAF WAS THE ARCHITECT OF KARGIL AS THE ARMY CHIEF BUT ALSO THE PRESIDENT WHO CAME CLOSER THAN ANYONE BEFORE TO A SOLUTION OF THE KASHMIR ISSUE. HE WAS A USURPER WHOSE COUP WAS WELCOMED BUT WHO TRANSFORMED INTO A DESPISED PRESIDENT
couple of weeks later. The General was wearing a powder-blue jacket with an open-neck shirt. He looked like a Hollywood star holidaying on the Riviera. In a suit and tie, I felt decidedly over-dressed.
“Why aren’t you wearing your bow tie?” he asked. “I was hoping you’d teach me how to tie one.” Even after falling from power and a fugitive from justice, the General had not lost his sense of humour.
Last week the focus was on the political and, therefore, disturbing contradictions in his character. And rightly so. But let’s not forget the delightful ones. They’re also part of the truth.