In the quiet shade of the old temple courtyard, Mom Katrina sat still, her eyes wandering across the stone path. Beside her, the tiny newborn lay on the rough ground, fragile and trembling. His soft fur barely shielded him from the chill, and his small cries echoed through the air. Anyone watching could feel a pang in their chest—why was he not safely in her arms?
Katrina’s instincts seemed uncertain. She reached down and picked him up, but instead of holding him close to her chest for warmth and comfort, she awkwardly gripped him by his tiny arm. The newborn dangled unsteadily, his head bobbing as if the movement was too much for his delicate neck. A gentle mother would normally cradle her baby, protect him from harm, but Katrina seemed unaware that her way was wrong and dangerous.
The other monkeys in the troop glanced over, some chattering softly as if they sensed the discomfort of the little one. The baby’s eyes darted around, searching for safety. He wanted to nuzzle into her fur, to feel the steady heartbeat that would calm his fear—but instead, he was placed back on the cold stone once again.
Every twitch of his tiny body spoke of need, yet Katrina appeared distracted, sometimes grooming herself instead of checking her baby. Perhaps she was young and inexperienced, not fully understanding how to be a mother. Still, it was heartbreaking to watch the little newborn left so vulnerable.
Moments like these remind us how precious and fragile new life is, and how much it depends on the tenderness and wisdom of a caregiver. For baby’s sake, we can only hope Katrina learns soon—before it’s too late.
