Turning Point Sikder Samiur Rahman

The day before it happened, my father and I went to the historic Bangladesh vs. India cricket match at Bangabandhu National Stadium. It was Bangladesh's 100th international match-thousands of people attended. We were in the stands, intently focused, fervently hoping for an upset. My father was so enthusiastic that he seemed like a fellow teenager. When Bangladesh defeated India for the first time ever, parades and celebrations erupted in Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh. We went out to dinner with my mother and two brothers to celebrate. That jubilant day turned out to be far more significant in my memory than I had imagined at the time.

The next time I saw my father was when I was rushed to the hospital to see him after school the next day. He had taken ill, I was told. But when I arrived, his body was already draped in a white cloth. My father, the invincible Director General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Bangladesh, had died of a sudden heart attack at work. Seeing him dead felt like the end of the world. My family and country were shattered. One day your father, a national figure, is vibrant and involved, and the next day, he is lifeless and carried away. Nothing would ever be the same. "Your father would...