The jungle road was unusually quiet that morning, yet one tiny sound broke the silence—soft, desperate cries from a baby monkey named Ara. Separated from her mother in the confusion of moving through the trees, Ara had stumbled down to the roadside. Her tiny body shook as she sat alone, her cries echoing like a call for help that tugged at any heart passing by.
Suddenly, the peace was shattered. A loud roar of an approaching motorbike, driven recklessly fast by Aron, cut through the air. Dust swirled and leaves scattered as the powerful drag of speed approached the very spot where Ara sat, unaware of the danger. Her cries grew louder, almost as if she sensed the threat rushing toward her fragile form.
The moment was terrifying—Ara’s little arms stretched out helplessly, her eyes wide with fear. At the very last second, Aron noticed the small figure on the road. The brakes screeched, tires grinding against the dirt, sending the bike into a violent skid. Dust clouds rose high, and for a heartbeat, time froze.
When the dust settled, Ara was still trembling on the ground, untouched but terrified. Her cries became even more heart-wrenching, though now mixed with relief. Aron, shaken by how close tragedy had come, stepped down from his bike and watched the tiny creature cry, realizing how fragile life could be.
Moments later, Ara’s mother appeared, rushing out of the trees in panic. She scooped her baby into her arms, calming Ara with warmth and safety. Aron stood there silently, knowing he had just witnessed a miracle.
From that day, the memory of baby Ara crying on the road stayed with him, a reminder to slow down and respect life in all its forms.
