Deep in the lush forest surrounding Angkor Wat, something beautiful happened.
It was just after dawn when the forest floor began to glow with golden light, streaming through the towering ancient trees. A soft rustle came from the upper branches as the long-tailed macaques stirred from their sleep. But that morning, the jungle’s usual chatter quieted—something sacred was happening.
Mama Lory, one of the troop’s kindest and most gentle macaques, had just given birth.
I had been following her for weeks. Not as a scientist, not as a tourist, but simply as someone who had fallen in love with her presence—calm, nurturing, always watching out for the younger monkeys. That morning, I witnessed something I will never forget.
She was crouched in a quiet nook between two mossy tree roots, her eyes soft and focused. And in her arms… was her tiny newborn. No bigger than a mango, the baby clung to her fur with trembling fingers. I couldn’t hear a sound—just the rustling of leaves and the beating of my own heart.
Then, something extraordinary happened.
Lory lifted her baby gently, brought him close to her face, and nuzzled him with a quiet tenderness. Her eyes closed, and she wrapped her arms around him like a fragile treasure. It wasn’t just instinct. It was love.
You could feel it.
It was in the way she rocked side to side, keeping her baby warm from the cool jungle air. It was in the way she softly groomed his head, pausing to breathe him in. It reminded me of the way a human mother would stroke the hair of a newborn, soothing them into sleep.
For a moment, time stood still. I was thousands of miles from home, but I felt something universal—a mother’s love that needed no translation.
Other monkeys stayed at a distance. Even the rowdiest juveniles, usually causing mischief by now, seemed to pause out of respect. The troop gathered quietly nearby, as if offering silent support. A few elder females watched protectively, like wise midwives of the forest.
There was something sacred in the air.
As the baby began to squirm and cry, Lory softly cooed—her sounds low and rhythmic. And just like that, the baby settled. He curled into her chest, trusting, safe.
I remember thinking: This is what love looks like before the world touches it.
That moment stayed with me long after I left the forest. I thought of my own mother, and the way she used to tuck me in as a child. I thought of the universal bond between mothers and their young, found in jungles, cities, homes, and huts.
Mama Lory reminded me that the most powerful emotions—love, protection, connection—exist even in the quietest corners of the world.
She didn’t need words. Her actions were louder.
Today, Lory and her baby are still together, exploring the forests near Angkor Wat. The baby has begun to crawl, his steps wobbly but determined. And every now and then, he still reaches for his mother—for that same embrace that welcomed him into the world.
It’s a reminder that even in the wildest places, love reigns.
So if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the noise of the world, take a moment to watch this video. Let Mama Lory show you what truly matters. Her touch, her care, her quiet strength—it’s enough to soften even the hardest heart.
Because sometimes, the most powerful stories come from the silence between words.
