My Beloved Father

My journey in medicine began with my father. He was a doctor, and his example gave the profession a meaning that was personal before it became my own work.

This is a place for the words and photographs I choose to keep in his memory.

Only what is ready to be remembered in public.

Essays hold the longer reflections. Notes make room for something smaller: a line, a habit, or a moment—in Istiaque's own words, when he chooses to publish it.

Longer reflections

Essays

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No essay has been published here yet.

This space will remain quiet until Istiaque adds his own words.

Shorter entries

Notes

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No note has been published here yet.

This space will remain quiet until Istiaque adds his own words.

A few photographs. Their own context. Nothing ornamental.

Approved family images will appear with the captions Istiaque provides. Until then, the spaces remain visibly and deliberately empty.

His example sits at the beginning of everything that followed.

The fuller story continues through the path into medicine, the work, and the life being built between Bangladesh and Australia.

Return to the story