Recently, Mujibor Rahman Devdas passed away. Although the state honoured him with the Ekushey Padak, he had to lead his life in isolation and remained totally unknown to many people.

While I read the memorials for Niloufer Manzur by her children around the world, I can personally connect with many of the anecdotes, as I am sure can many.

There’s something really special about the community that you built and the type of leader that you were. Since the news of your death surfaced, generations of your students have been pouring their hearts out, each story highlighting special personal connections with you.

Sunbeams will not be Sunbeams without you. The corridors will miss your steady footsteps. The students and faculty will miss your confident leadership. You gave your students a solid foundation in their life. You helped them build character. You opened up new horizons for them.

My heart is filled with sorrow as I bow in respect to you, my teacher, my mentor and my role model.

The passing of Anisuzzaman has taken from our midst one more close friend and comrade from the generation which participated in the struggle for national liberation and held steadfast to its values.

In 2007, Professor Muzibur Rahman Debdas returned to the spotlight when Liberation War Museum trustee and researcher Mofidul Hoque made a documentary on him titled "Kan Pete Roi” (The Sound of Silence). The documentary expertly presented the lone and long struggle of Prof Debdas, a Liberation War hero.

I arrived in Dhaka, some years ago, as an outsider twice removed. First, I had grown up in Kolkata; second, I was a graduate student in Chicago.

In my professional career, I have taught in five universities in North America, have been awarded many national teaching and research awards but I’m yet to learn how Anisuzzaman sir used to control the class with his proverbial thick but calm voice. He’s an example of how one can get students’ attention without raising his/her voice.

It was probably on a day in the second week of March that I last saw and heard professor Anisuzzaman—our Anisuzzaman sir—speak publicly.

It was a privilege for me to work with professor Anisuzzaman in the drafting of the Constitution. I had the extraordinary good fortune of knowing him for more than 50 years, since our school days in St Gregory’s School, Dhaka. Since then we have travelled side by side towards the independence of the country and in the struggles for democracy.

Great names are formed by great events. It’s a truism that applies as much to the leaders and revolutionaries as to the pundits and intellectuals.

JRC was a true champion for development and his legacy as a renowned scholar, foremost civil engineer and education advocate will live on.

JRC was one of the few citizens who formed the group called POROSH—an abbreviation of Poribesh Rokkha Shopoth—in late 1990s.

Professor Jamilur Reza Choudhury, fondly called JRC by his friends, was a soft spoken but a strongly passionate man.

Widely known as a polite and cool-headed person he was an ideal teacher, persuasive enough for innovative application of modern method and tools of education.

It was around 7 pm in Dallas, Texas on April 27 (6 am on April 28 in Dhaka), when I received a phone call from a colleague at BRAC University.

There was every reason for Jamilur Reza Choudhury not to return to the Dacca of 1968 after completing his PhD at the University of Southampton, UK.

Dr Saadat Husain, a career civil servant of Bangladesh, passed away on April 22 at United Hospital after suffering from meningitis and renal complications.

It often takes the life of one man for a nation to wake up or to gather the courage to call a spade a spade.