I told my friend Sarah about our family's ancestral home in Wai, a village in India a couple hours away from Pune. It's a beautiful house with an inspiring backstory. When the riots were occurring after Gandhi was killed, many of these houses were targeted and destroyed, along with their inhabitants. However, my great grandfather (or great-great grandfather, I can't remember) was a local teacher in the neighborhood, so our home was left standing. Today it's one of the last of its kind still in use. Sarah and I had a really nice conversation about the power of teaching and teachinghood, and what that can mean to a community, and to history. It grounded me and her, because we had a moment where we sort of silently gave thanks to our ancestors for being the people they are. Without them and their passions, we wouldn't be here today.
