Deep in the ancient forest of Angkor Wat, among the roots of crumbling temples and the songs of cicadas, a heartbreaking scene unfolds—one that leaves even the toughest hearts shaken.
A baby monkey, barely old enough to cling properly, sits alone in the dusty red earth. His soft fur is streaked with dirt. His tiny hands tremble. And his mother… is just a few feet away, doing nothing.
It’s hard to explain what makes this scene so painful—maybe it’s his eyes. Wide, pleading, searching the faces of strangers and shadows alike. Or maybe it’s the way he toddles toward her, over and over again, only to be met with cold rejection or a flat-out shove.
He wants love. He wants warmth. But all he gets is indifference.
Many visitors stop to watch, unsure of what’s going on. Some ask, “Is this normal?” Others shake their heads and walk away, unable to bear the cruelty. In the wild, things can be brutal—but this feels personal. It feels like something’s broken inside this mother. Or maybe, she’s just overwhelmed.
One local guide, an older man who’s watched this troop for years, says softly, “She’s young. Maybe too young. She didn’t know how to be a mother. But the baby… he knows only one thing—he needs her.”
And need her, he does. Each time he stumbles forward, there’s a desperate hope in his little steps. He just wants to curl into her arms, to feel her heartbeat against his. But her back remains turned.
Some moments are almost too much to bear. A larger monkey pushes the baby aside. He falls. Cries. Dust kicks up around his fragile frame. The mother barely glances. Not a sound. Not a move. Just silence.
Why doesn’t she help?
Why doesn’t she protect him?
The answers may never be clear. Maybe she lost a baby before and shut down. Maybe her own childhood was cold and loveless. Or maybe in the hierarchy of the troop, she’s too low-ranking to defend even her own child.
But for this baby, those explanations mean nothing. He only knows what he feels: loneliness.
For a few brief minutes, something changes. A gentle aunt—an older female—walks over. She sniffs the baby. He climbs onto her, clutching tightly. She allows it. He nestles in. For the first time all day, he closes his eyes. His tiny chest rises and falls slowly. Peace. Safety. Just for now.
The mother watches… but still doesn’t approach.
It’s in these moments—these silent battles between life and love—that the forest teaches its hardest lessons.
At Angkor Wat, visitors come to see the temples. The carvings. The mystery of an ancient world. But sometimes, the most unforgettable stories are written not in stone—but in soft fur, trembling hands, and the broken bond between a mother and her baby.
To the baby, we say: You are loved. Even if not by the one who should’ve loved you first.