At the first death anniversary of Syed Muazzem Ali, former Foreign Secretary of Bangladesh, on December 30, many of his colleagues remember him as the highly accomplished and charismatic diplomat who helped to turn International Mother Language Day into a reality, and who tirelessly advanced Bangladeshi priorities on the world stage. They remember his warmth, humour and charm.

The sky was unusually blue for an early morning in late November, the day Aly Zaker passed away. Everything else that happened after feels like a sort of blur, except I distinctly remember thinking that he would have appreciated the beauty of that cold, clear morning in Dhaka.

Ziauddin Tariq Ali was known to others as a freedom fighter, a cultural activist and a founder trustee of the Liberation War Museum.

Chef Haji Mohammed Rafique of the Fakruddin brand has passed away yesterday (September 27) at the United Hospital, after suffering from infection in the lungs. He left behind the legacy of a culinary empire that his father, the legendary chef Md Fakruddin Munshi, had established.

With the sad demise of Ziauddin Tariq Ali, a colourful personality of the generation of Muktijoddha, a life-long crusader of secular liberal nationalist values of the liberation struggle has left the arena of history.

At a time when Bangladesh is planning the historic celebration of the 50th anniversary of independence next year, the demises, in quick succession, of two great commanders of the Liberation War, are too shocking.

A major disappointment in the public life of India’s first Bengali President Pranab Mukherjee, who died on August 31, 2020, was that he could never contest and win direct elections to parliament, which would have helped him shed the tag his critics gave him: “a politician without a mass base and following.”

Imagine women entering the field of photography, historically dominated by men, during a time when they were even more strictly confined to certain socially constructed roles.

At 75, Murtaja Baseer is as agile and hyperactive as a child, with a mind as sharp and clear. In his cosy apartment in Manipuripara, Baseer eagerly shows his oil paintings stacked against the walls and explains the various phases that he has gone through as an artist and the mentors who have helped him along the way.

Major Taher Ahmed BP (Rtd), of the first Bangladesh War Course (BWC), passed away on July 4, 2020, at Combined Military Hospital (CMH) Dhaka around 9 pm from a heart attack. The story of his life and legacy is intimately connected to the Liberation War of Bangladesh and as his daughter, I wanted to chronicle it here.

Every Friday, on the 13th-floor of Square Hospital, the resident medical officers, registrars and nurses waited for a call from the medical director, Dr Mirza Nazimuddin.

In the early sixties, cultural activists and student bodies with different political affiliations, led by their university faculty, played a crucial role in demanding democracy and holding the Pakistani authoritarian regime to account.

As we are living in the age of digitization, activism to bring about a change often remains confined in the virtual world but back in the 1950s, activism meant raising your voice and your hand in the air -- rendering powerful slogans and songs against injustice and unjust establishment. Kamal Lohani was a perfect example of that take-to-the-streets activism.

On June 6, thanks to modern technology, my siblings, nephews, nieces and their families in various countries in Asia, Europe and North America, virtually participated in every aspect of my Boro Bhai’s last journey. My Bangladeshi brothers beautifully followed all the rituals in the most meticulous manner with love, respect, dignity and compassion.

After days of mourning and sadness, I wanted to take the time to recognise the person who for 36 years played a pivotal role in helping me raise my children. Along with her team at Sunbeams, Niloufer Manzur was responsible for helping my children grow and blossom and I will forever be grateful for the impact she had on our lives.

My first encounter with Mrs Niloufer Manzur was in her office, a tiny room on the ground floor of a three-storied building on Rd 27, Dhanmondi, which housed Sunbeams, a school where I was hoping my ten-year-old daughter Tanweena would be enrolled.

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.