Somewhere in the childhood books one had read the story of the infamous bird king who had brought about untold misery to his subjects just because he could not see beyond his own beak and because he had grown fond of his own plumage. More than that, he was not prepared to listen to sane advice or straight talk as he became too full of himself, and like his plumage, he was overstuffed with the mistaken notion of self-importance, and thus of his self-assigned indispensability for his kingdom of feathers and twigs. What he also failed to realise was that the kingdom he had acquired was not genuinely his and that he became the bird king by chance and collusion, not through due process. As the story goes, there was a bird kingdom without a king who had been shot out of the skies by a reckless poacher some time ago. Quite disrespectfully, the town taxidermist still had its preserved body placed in his shop window. The bird assembly had been looking for a suitable candidate when one fine morning they spotted a big grey bird with an impressive gaze and regal plumage perched on a branch of a pine tree in the city’s central park. It looked majestic in appearance surveying the panorama in a dignified silence. The bird assembly went into session and elected the great grey bird as their king. The new king was, in fact, a migratory Great Grey Owl who on his way elsewhere and had landed there to rest for the day. With this fortuitous development he was too happy to stay put and the birds too were grateful for his acceptance to be their king. The king had strange habits. He would sleep a little at night and remain awake the whole day, thereby conveying the impression that he was working tirelessly for the benefit of his subjects, which seemed to endear him to the birds. Sometimes, he would disappear at night to his secret hideouts, leaving the personal security detail perplexed. His pale yellow eyes had a penetrating stare, and never seemed to blink, which added to his aura of invincibility and strength. His shiny grey coat of feathers would always be immaculately clean, setting him quite apart from others. His penchant to dress for effect seemed to have kicked off a male bird fashion craze, mostly among his courtiers, who tried to ridiculously outdo each other, making monkeys of themselves. Soon he surrounded himself with the incompetent and the undeserving. His grand vizier was a purple heron, who was quite strangely fond of wearing a yellow ribbon around his slender neck. Perhaps it was a mark of his distinction or a reflection of a sick mind, or maybe both. This smooth character was an expert in painting a rosy picture and fakery. Then he appointed a raven as his chief spokes-bird whose only job was to sing his master’s praises day in and day out in his insufferable croaking voice. The king was also fond of sweet, singing humming birds and colourful finches, enjoying their company with overflowing delight in his leisure time. One fine morning, the king decided to take a walk down the main highway passing parallel to his royal perch and as he stepped out of the palace gate, his courtiers were beside themselves with praises for the unique decision whereas some guards wondered what the king was up to. The walk commenced with him leading in a royal swagger followed by a bunch of chattering courtiers and a crowd of loyal subjects. The king walked in the middle of the highway, utterly fearlessly, taking one step at a time. The birds were greatly impressed by his daring and poise. None of the birds knew that their king actually could not see in the daylight. There was a cacophony of excited bird calls, shrieks, tweets and whistles. The breeze seemed to caress his grey feathers sometime gently, and the next moment quite naughtily, parting his plumage in the middle or ruffling it charmingly. Just then, there appeared a speeding trawler over the road bend some distance away, heading directly towards the walking birds. Undeterred, the Great Grey Owl walked on followed by his astonished subjects. As the trawler hit the birds, there was a great flutter, screams and a huge jumble of feathers of all descriptions. A large number of birds were killed. Only a few birds managed to fly out of harm’s way, but it appeared the bird king survived by an uncommon stroke of luck. He was stuck in the trawler’s fender and survived the impact due to his thick plumage. The trawler carried him to another country where he joined a touring talkie for livelihood after recovering from his wounds. Starved for the good old times, the Grey Owl decided to return against conventional sense. The story might have an uncanny but unintended resemblance to the mirthless return of General (Retd) Pervez Musharraf to Pakistan against all sensible advice and prudence. His impulsiveness and imperious bent of mind were well known but how damaging those traits could be to himself, his ex-colleagues, a few loyal followers, the army, national institutions and the country is slowly beginning to dawn. He has the capacity and propensity to jeopardise anybody and everybody who ever worked with him (reference General (Retd) Shahid Aziz’s bizzare episode). Musharraf is still smarting from the bitter taste of self-inflicted ‘degradation’, from an autocratic president of Pakistan for a decade to a fugitive from the law, seeking bail from a court in Karachi. Even that is understandable, but his regrettable lack of composure to have resented obeying the law does not suit a person who is seeking public office through elections. Musharraf seems to have missed the basic lesson that humility and benevolence are the first steps in public service and not boastfulness and spite. He has not been able to walk the talk as he has comprehensively failed to feel one with and empathise with the common man’s rudimentary woes like the usual hassles in the courts and police stations. Much more might still come. Presently, the ex-president is ensnarled in a slew of court cases against him, including high treason. He had a once in a lifetime chance of ridding the country of its unenviable baggage of wrongdoings in the past in 1999. He had just survived a mass assassination attempt when the harebrained state machinery reportedly tried to run his commercial aircraft including a few hundred passengers out of fuel or force land in a foreign country. As he landed back, a just baked coup was handed over to him. At that moment, from a position of relative moral high ground, he could have opted for a South Africa-like Truth and Reconciliation Commission, instead of his notorious latter-day National Reconciliation Ordinance (NRO), focused pathetically on self-perpetuation. Article six of the Constitution is quite clear and the Supreme Court’s (SC) views are on record. Abrogation and subversion of the constitution by use/show of force or by unconstitutional means is punishable by death or imprisonment for life. The SC appears determined to take the treason case against General Musharraf to its logical conclusion. Audacity from the floor hardly impresses the judiciary. The bird king overstepped his good turn in life twice. Once when he decided to take the fateful walk on the highway and got his followers slaughtered. Then he stretched his luck too far, perhaps, by deciding to return. Discretion is the better part of valour, or should we say arrogance? The writer is a retired brigadier of the Pakistan army and can be reached at clay.potter@hotmail.com