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That night, as the fire crackled low and fireflies drifted through the trees, Mira leaned closer to Grandfather and asked,

“Why do leaders sometimes cause problems instead of solving them?”

Grandfather smiled thoughtfully, drawing two simple figures in the dirt: one holding a sword, the other with open hands.

“That,” he began, “is the difference between a soldier and a politician.”

He pointed to the figure with the sword.

“A soldier’s job is simple in some ways. They are trained to see an enemy and defend their people by neutralizing the threat. It’s necessary in war—but dangerous when that thinking slips into politics.”

Then he gestured to the open-handed figure.

“A politician’s true role is very different. Politics, Mira, at its heart, is the art of walking beside people, not standing over them. It’s about humility—being willing to listen, to negotiate, and to embrace the fact that no one holds all the truth. It’s a conversation, not a conquest.”

Mira furrowed her brows.

“But why do some leaders act like they’re always right and everyone else is wrong?”

Grandfather sighed.

“That’s the great danger. When leaders become rigid, when they shout ‘I am right!’ and silence others, they weaken the very country they are supposed to protect. A strong nation is like a strong bridge—built from many different materials and perspectives. If you break it apart to keep only one kind of piece, the bridge collapses.”

He drew a small circle around the two figures, and then cracks spreading from one side.

“When leaders create division—between rich and poor, majority and minority, this group and that group—they might gain something in the short term. But they hurt the future of the whole nation. They forget that in today’s world, nations must build on equality. Race, religion, background—none of that should determine a citizen’s worth anymore. We are too connected now, Mira.”

He tossed a twig into the fire, sending a tiny shower of sparks upward.

“The greatest leaders aren’t the ones who win arguments. They are the ones who heal wounds. While a general’s job is to defeat an enemy, a politician’s duty is to take even the angriest voice, the most different opinion, and find a way to include it. Because without unity, a nation crumbles—from inside.”

Mira listened quietly, sketching the two figures in her notebook. She could feel the weight of what Grandfather was saying. It wasn’t about being the loudest. It was about being wise enough to see the whole picture.

“A good leader,” Grandfather continued, “must understand every side—economics, society, history, feelings. It’s like weaving a giant tapestry. If you pull too hard on one thread, you tear the whole thing. That’s why great leaders always seek full context before acting. Without context, even the best intentions can cause harm.”

Mira looked up, wide-eyed.

“Context? What’s context, anyway?”

Grandfather chuckled warmly, reaching for a fresh patch of dirt to draw in.

“Ah, Mira—that’s another big story.”

And so, under the soft canopy of stars, a new conversation began.