It was a tradition enforced by my mother that we sat down for dinner as a family. That was the most important meal for us as a family. Dinner was when we all sat, ate and regaled each other about our day’s happenings.

During one of those dinners in my tenth year of practice, my father told us about a dinner he attended the previous evening.

‘Last night was interesting,’ he began with a quiet smile.

‘Oh? What about?’ I asked.

‘When I was being introduced around, the host introduced me as Fahri’s father. And I was referred to as that throughout the night.’

‘Oh, that’s interesting. I’m usually known as Azzat’s son!’ As I have been since I did my pupillage and continue to be amongst his friends.

‘I know. That’s why it was interesting,’ he said.

‘Sorry about that, dad! Didn’t meant to steal your thunder.’

‘No, no. It is as it should be. That is the changing of the guard, Fahri. I would be concerned if it didn’t happen. That I am defined by you means you’ve arrived. And I am happy to be known as Fahri’s father.’

This essay is dedicated to my father, Azzat bin Kamaludin.