I saw Pervez Musharraf wiping back tears when he shed his uniform. And I too felt like crying. I wanted to cry because I remembered how popular he was until he sacked the chief justice. I felt sad that this brilliant man had to make such stupid mistakes. I thought about the men who disappeared during his reign, and the loot and plunder that became common when he was the most powerful man in the country. I felt sad to see many people enriching themselves by hoarding sugar and creating shortages. I almost wept when I thought about how the judges were treated on the day the emergency was declared. I thought about the family members of those who were picked up by the agencies and the torture their wives and mothers have to endure until they hear from the victims again. And I thought of how it could have been different.
If only he had spent an hour every day reading one or two national newspapers, he would not have done what he did. He would have known that the people would never forgive him for withdrawing corruption cases against BB. And he would never have humiliated the judges of the apex court.
Future generations may well refer to him as a minor politician who lived in the times of Iftikhar Chaudhry and Aitzaz Ahsan!