The newborn baby monkey lay on a bed of dried grass, tiny, cold, and still carrying the umbilical cord that proved how recently he had entered the world. He should have been wrapped in his mother’s arms, hearing her heartbeat, feeling her warmth, and drinking her milk. But instead, he was alone, abandoned by fate before he even had a chance to understand life.
His small body shivered from exhaustion. The world was too big, too loud, and too unfamiliar. His eyes weren’t fully focused yet, but he could sense that the comforting presence he needed most—his mother—was nowhere to be found. Instinct told him to cry, to call for her, because that was all he knew how to do. His tiny voice struggled out of his throat, soft and high, begging the world to answer.
Rescuers found him just in time. His belly was empty, and his strength was fading fast. The sight of the long umbilical cord still attached broke their hearts—it meant he had been born only hours ago, yet had already experienced more suffering than any baby should. Carefully, they lifted him from the cold ground. The moment gentle hands held him, he trembled but slowly relaxed, sensing warmth for the first time.
The rescuers wrapped him in soft cloth, trying to replace the warmth of a mother he would never meet. He was too weak to latch onto a bottle at first, his mouth barely opening. But they were patient, guiding tiny drops of milk into him until he began to accept more. Soon his breaths became stronger, and his small fingers curled around their hand as though holding on for life.
He didn’t understand what had happened—but he understood one thing: someone had answered his cries. He wasn’t alone anymore. And for this tiny soul, that was the beginning of hope.
