A few days ago, I rediscovered a famous poem by Romantic English poet William Blake (1757-1827), and I was instantly struck by the modernity and vivacity of its author and the modernism of its tone, themes and values. The piece might well have been written today and thus shatters any preconceptions one may hold against poetry that is two centuries old. Now is an invitation to rediscover the great poet, and you might surprise yourself at relishing in the potence of his words and delighting in the message they behold.
Dhara the baby Indian elephant, rescued in July 2012 by IFAW, was a casualty of monsoon season in Assam. I sponsored her vet fees, only to be informed 2 weeks later that she had sadly not survived her ordeal.
The poem is called 'Auguries of Innocence', the full version of which (one
undivided sequence of 132 aphoristic lines) is a click away at Poetry Foundation. The original manuscript may be viewed at The William Blake Archive. I concede that the poem title might not strike a chord right off the bat, but its exact first four lines somewhat will: -
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
The piece is assumed to have been written in 1803, yet was not published until decades after Blake's death, in 1863. It starts off as an introduction of sorts, a reflection of the wider cosmos into the finite and defined that is a grain of sand and a flower, then themselves imploded into an inner expansion and extension of cosmos into micro-cosmos, and the correlation between the two.
Then the poem develops into a manifesto for the welfare, respect and dignity of animals, and in particular those who share our environment or revolve in its periphery, from cat and dog to horse and hare, via the humble gnat and dutiful spider. It then expands to the different segments of human society. The poem is a cautionary tale of retribution to those who scorn innocence and purity of heart in all their guises. The powerful forces of the Law of Attraction will eventually remedy any wrong-doings - or failing that - chastise the wrong-doers. If you mistreat an animal, expect to be mistreated back: 'You get what you give'. Bad karma boomerangs back, so beware!
For the purpose of this article, I am only including herewith excerpts. Missed-out parts are identified as "[...]". As for the animal pictures I have included, all have in common a connection to man - good or less so. Now let's get back to our poem...
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the Hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
I adopted this lovely little lad, Tickle, from Manchester Dogs Home, in August 2006.
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The Wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou will grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of Day
* * *
P.S: Dying to entertain you? The Tyke Elephant Outlaw documentary film exposes the drama and outrage behind performing animals and the abomination and cruelty of the circus industry, as epitomised here by Tyke, an elephant whose spirit had been broken as a calf so she could just follow orders and perform circus tricks on cue. In August 1994 in Honolulu, she snapped. She trampled down her trainer and went on the rampage. She escaped the circus and her prison sentence of a life, but her natural quest for freedom would see her robbed of her life, under a hail of gunfire.
This post is a personal design indulgence of mine and a little vanity project in progress, amongst my many areas of interest. I have a thing for good design and more than a casual appreciation for 'olde worlde' interiors, exteriors, homestyles, graphics and the likes. The last time I did a 'Design Interlude' was over 5 years ago, where I featured sublime Cheshire residential façades from my then neck of the woods (Hale, Bowdon and Altrincham). I had taken snapshots of candy-coloured façades, that looked like they had escaped the confines of a 3-tiered tea-time cake stand, and eloped in their delicious robes of custard cream, buttercream fancy, chiffon cake and marshmallow, taking me down a cottage industry journey of delicate mint cake, lemon truffle, deep caramel, old-fashioned violet and rose
creams, candied ginger, strawberry truffle, butterscotch,
coconut macaroon and vanilla fudge… Are we under the spell of a sugar high or are we not?
When Wes Anderson's critically-acclaimed film The Grand Budapest Hotel came out and its majestic façade rose upon our screens and graced the glossies in its wedding cake strawberry meringue colourings and piped lettering, I knew straight away that I was faced with an art that I loved. Anderson's quirky formula is sublime in my eye: the nostalgia-ladden cartoonesque naïve art visuals in candy pastel graphics and the surrealist art direction which both celebrate vintage to an artform are a great fit to my all-encompassing design passions. I had to extol this proud and loud in my blog, no matter how long it would take me to get round to it, which ended up being more than 12 months after the movie release (eeek how responsive is that?).
Finally the moment has come to be enjoyed, as I am looking at the façade and imagining the stories and dramas and quid pro quos that lie underneath the apparent sober tranquillity and contained gracefulness of the place. Meanwhile I invite you to go backstage and find out about Wes Anderson's Grand Budapest Hotel graphic designer, Annie Atkins, via an insightful article by Camille Styles, or how she met the visual feat challenges raised by such a high-profile project brief for a sought-after dream job!
Talking of candy pink palaces, how could I possibly resist other gems, especially if they are no fiction, but rather a sweet and welcome part of our reality? Hawa Mahal, otherwise known as Palace of Winds (Jaipur, India, completed 1799) springs to my mind, as immortalised herein by Studio Yuki in all its intricate beauty and timeless charm:
Some candy pink palaces out there in India are crumbly around the edges, like this one in Benarés. We may nonetheless appreciate its fading glory. The top storey certainly looks well kept and - since we are in a sweet-focused mood - I would say that its ornate décor reminds me of some girlie birthday cake decoration piping. If sweetness is bringing you sickness, we'll steer the façade analogy clear of sugar and steer it towards bejewelling instead.
Anyway if nostalgia tastes like a cream cake from childhood baked with tender loving care, I wonder what a whiff of nostalgia would smell like? I shall dispense with a spray of pure musk from L'Air de Panache, found lingering on a bedside cabinet at The Grand Budapest Hotel. Maybe I'll go for a drop of Guerlain instead.
Previously in our preamble to our U.N. Agenda 21 topic, we saw how wasteful - and therefore 'unsustainable' - our westernised civilisation has become, forced into an economic model of mass-consumerism aided by rampant loan and credit facilities (in other words debt) and fast turnover of production with limited lifecycle, based upon the principle of planned obsolescence, and praised by a marketing strategy that celebrates the satisfaction of needs in the moment.
Dubai City Marina District aerial photography by Dmitry Moiseenko, via AirPano
Meanwhile quality educational programmes, quality employment and in-job promotion opportunities are being degraded down to those Mickey Mouse diplomas leading to Mickey Mouse jobs (yes, the guy who 10 years after graduation is still flipping burgers, stocking shelves or Starbucking the coffees). The working class is now the service sector class. Welcome to the working poor! The erosion in quality academic and employment prospects results in the mental, cultural, spiritual and financial impoverishment of the lower-middle and working classes - in perfect contrast to today's (super) rich list hitting a historical wealthiest high - by the extra millions of dollars per (rich) capita compared to the 1960s.
At the other end of the spectrum, 30 million slave labour in poor parts of the world are 'chained' to the assembly line, producing the goods outsourced by those American, European and Japanese brands. The consumeristic profile as it is right now is escalating into a situation of no return, tainted by the ultimate fear of resource scarcity, a FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) of material, social and financial proportions. The powers that be - the elite above the elite - who engineered unsustainability in the first place, came up with a world governance document back in 1992, set for the 21st century and designed to reverse excesses and make our world sustainable again.
Of course this sounds like some twisted fairytale, whereby a quack poisons the local well, causes mayhem, and then eventually pulls out the magic cure potion from his bag of tricks. Are you not feeling a little duped?
The Rio Declaration on Environment and Development, and the Statement of Principles for the Sustainable Management of Forests were adopted by more than 178 Governments at the United Nations Conference on
Environment and Development (UNCED) held in Rio de Janerio, Brazil, in June 1992. The full implementation of Agenda 21 was reaffirmed at the World Summit on Sustainable Development
(WSSD) held in Johannesburg, South Africa, in September
2002.
And this is how that magic promising word - 'sustainable' - seeped into our vocabulary like a Freudian slip that would autocorrect 'ecology' into a workable lucrative economic model to address climate change and post-industrial society. For this is basically what Agenda 21 is in a nutshell, beyond its lofty parlay. Sustainable is the magic cure potion. How it is achieved is via the entire world inventory of its resources, and the redistribution of land and wealth, at the expense of the small family land owners, and at the benefit of governments and Big Corporate. Agenda 21 is no panacea. It is a socio-economic division that makes movies like The Hunger Games, The Matrix or Mad Max closer to reality than the scary fiction they are supposed to purport.
Agenda 21 is about the redistribution of wealth, and a lowering of living standards in westernised countries that epitomises the continued assault onto the middle class and seals its eradication. It accelerates governmental control of our lives, in pure Orwellian style. Agenda 21 sets the scene for communitarianism, with individual rights bowing to the collective. (to be continued)
Time for Outrage, Indignez-Vous ! is a bestselling, impassioned and controversial call to action essay by Stéphane Hessel, a 93-year old French Resistance leader, concentration camp survivor, and former UN speechwriter. Available in English, in PDF format, from The Nation, or to purchase as a book from Amazon. Time for Outrage inspired protests like “Occupy” in the USA, Les Indignés in France, and The Indignados in Spain.
In order to grow into our own, we need to surround ourselves with non-judgemental individuals, usually close friends and teachers/ mentors, who give us the space to become who we are truly meant to become, who take us as we are and who are supportive of our talents, skills and abilities, ideas and life essence and ambitions. In his recent newsletter, The Daily Love's Mastin Kipp referred to his entourage as his Tribe. This resonated with me and so did the realisation that my small tribe of respected and carefully-chosen close friends may even extend to one family member who truly understood me, even though he is no longer physically around: my beloved maternal grandad, Armand.
My grandad as a dashing 18-year-old French Navy Radioman
My grandad was an unconventional world-travelled freespirited chap who happened to be misunderstood and mocked by the fools of the world. As a slight 'misfit' myself, I can't help but greatly admire him for what he stood for. Born in Brittany, he was of pure Celtic heritage, tall, slim, handsome, blue-eyed, softy spoken and elegantly dressed. I am adamant my grandad could have been a silver screen actor on looks alone. In the early 1920s, his family left Brittany for a northern French textile town. Post-war, the north of France was crying out for labour to rebuild its towns and infrastructures and my grandad's dad worked as a carpenter. Unfortunately tragedy struck as he slipped off the roof of the Chamber of Commerce and died, leaving a 14-year-old son (my grandad), a very young daughter and a handicapped wife (my great grandmother had contracted polio). Without hesitation my grandad decided to head back to Brittany and join the navy, as his wages would help support his mum and sister. Hats off to him for his amazing courage!
The navy became my grandad's new family and he dedicated nearly 20 years of his life to it. He specialised in transmissions, first on submarines, then promoted to la crème de la crème of French naval warship fleet, Le Richelieu, the most powerful, streamlined and technologically-advanced WWII battleship ever designed, highly coveted by the US Navy to the extent that the design of USS Missouri is allegedly inspired by Le Richelieu.
During WWII Le Richelieu operated off French territorial waters, mainly across the Indian and Pacific Oceans, responding solely to ally strategic commands and to Général de Gaulle, as opposed to the occupying power in place. This sent Le Richelieu to strategic battle locations as diverse as Norway, Mers-el-Kebir (French Algeria), Dakar (Senegal), and to regroup in the USA (Boston and NYC) before heading to Scapa Flow (Scotland), then on to Ceylon (Sri Lanka), Sabang and Sumatra, back to Europe, Casablanca, and the Far East again, i.e. Java & Sumatra, Singapore and Indochina (Vietnam), via Trincomalee (Ceylon) and Durban (South Africa). From memory, my grandad also stopped over in Australia at some point.
In 1943 Le Richelieu spent approx. 6 months in NYC for refit, and my grandad acquainted himself with the American way of life. He is alleged to have had a girlfriend in NYC, despite having a wife back home (my grandma) and a baby daughter (my mum). As strange as it might sound, I would have liked to trace his girlfriend back, to hear her tell me about my grandad. I would have liked to hear that he had been happy at some point in his life.
My grandad travelled the length and breadth of the world at a time when this was a rather daunting thing to do. He would pique my curiosity with his descriptions of the dense dark jungle woodland-fringed shorelines of Borneo. I recall him telling me how he got to walk up 32 storeys to see a mate in NYC when the elevator had broken down. Little bits of everyday life would delight me more than facts and numbers off some history book. My grandad lived history, he was a part of it, and his account mattered more to me than some second-hand narrative by some historian.
After the war, my grandad got promoted to a land-based Navy role on the French riviera but he had difficulty adjusting to a sedentary semi-civilian lifestyle and quit his job, putting an end to his Navy career. His addiction to alcohol became problematic. My grandma suggested they live in Corsica (her native island) and he got a customs post. I am not sure he enjoyed the Corsican lifestyle after years of journeying across the planet, but what I know for a fact is that certain ill-intentioned individuals encouraged his drinking, and his condition deteriorated further. As a last resort, my grandparents and my mum moved to the northern textile town where his mum still lived. They left behind a somehow comfortable southern lifestyle for a cramped bedsit with no mod-cons. To make a living, my grandad had no other option than to labour in factories, while his addiction spiralled out of control...
This is a man who probably wasn't surrounded by a tribe of benefactors, well-wishers and an encouraging community of close friends. It seems he'd had the time of his life all those years back, from Brooklyn to Melbourne via Trincomalee, and he now was kinda lost, with no "save the world" superhero mission. He felt redundant, invisible. The unsung war hero became typecast as the drunk who can't hold his drink, as the worker who can't hold a job, and nobody seemed aware or cared that here was a man with an illustrious past, who had risked his life, on call 24/7 in the elite French Navy, who had put his fears behind him to support his family as far away from the comfort zone as can be. He wasn't the only one to feel misadjusted after the war. Even high profile figures like Général De Gaulle and Sir Winston Churchill notoriously struggled to stay popular and purposeful once back in civilian life.
Years went by. As his daughter (my mum) was about to get married, the universe lent a helping hand to my grandad. His employer wasn't going to sack him because of his drinking. He had seen potential in my grandad, a man who was smart, gifted, meticulous and keen to learn. The employer sent him to rehab. My grandad went to rehab like a silver screen actor would have: with acceptance and renewed dignity. He came out clean, his head high, resumed his job until retirement. He never relapsed.
My grandad holding my hand at the beach in Brittany
I came into the world a few years later. Something tells me I was his second epiphany and I am certain that my presence helped him stay afloat. He gave me so much attention, so much of his time, I was the apple of his eye! He took me everywhere, he believed in me, in my talents, skills and abilities. He read me like a book and identified what made me tick, more than anyone else in my family. He spoilt me rotten: educational comics, book series on how to draw, beautiful coffee table books on fauna and flora, top of the range boxes of high-quality pencils, invitations to the pictures, elegant dolls, etc. He would write me beautiful cards and letters whenever we were apart. When my parents were busy with their own lives and had little time for me, he had all the time in the world to listen to me, to advise me, to preempt, to guess what I was trying to say, to chat with me, to take me places, to tell me about the ways of the world. My grandad was my best friend.
Just as I embarked on those troubled teen years and needed emotional support more than ever, life got iffy. I wasn't even 14 and my grandad suddenly died, without warning. He collapsed in the street, in town, round the corner from that fated Chamber of Commerce where his own dad had died when he was just about 14. My grandad's death crushed me. It literally tipped me over, and all those years later I still find it hard to keep my composure.
Somehow I know that although he isn't physically around, he is giving me protection. I can feel his presence. I keep him alive by thinking about him daily. Armand is a definite component of my personal tribe: as an unconventional, world-travelled, spirited, independent, handsome, smart yet misunderstood and mocked chap, he is definitely one of mine!
"It wasn't until I realized that I belonged to myself and figured out what my values were, what I wanted from life, what my purpose is and the like, that I found my Tribe." - Mastin Kipp, The Daily Love
July 2015 update: A few months ago, I came across the 'French Battleship Richelieu enters New York City - February 1943' video and am including it to this article. It was an emotional experience for me to view it for the first time ever: -
Very recently and quite accidentally I came across the concept of The Laws of Attraction in the context of relationships. This was brought out to me by Joanne Hall, an inspirational lady who I'd originally met at a business seminar in Manchester three years ago and who happens to be a psychic counsellor and spiritual guide.
While having a conversation with Joanne recently, she briefed me on the principle and I found it so fascinating that I thought I would share it with you guys using my own words. I had heard about the laws of attraction without giving them a second thought. If questioned, I might have come up with something down the lines of the laws of seduction, without being that sure...
As a starting point, as a basis to those laws, I understand that 'you get what you give'. You sow the seeds of love/ hate/ fear (whatever good or bad) and just wait to see what you reap! 'You get what you give' might be one of those cliché ready-made advice-on-a-plate phrases that pop up in conversation in a social context, it also happens to be a fitting metaphor.
Take that mouthy colleague who's trouble at work. Next thing, she gets a verbal warning from the boss. She refuses to curb her ways and then it escalates from verbal warnings to the track-stopper written warning. She still carries on regardless, so then ends up being sacked! Her (bad) behaviour brought in the consequences and she's only got herself to blame! In other - more abrupt - words, she gave sh*t, so she got sh*t in return! She got what she gave. Punishment fits the crime.
'You get what you give' has variants which you probably use daily like I do: what goes around comes around, good/ bad karma, positive/ negative attitude. You get the flavour! We are masters of our own destinies to an extent, and we attract what we give out. That's basically the idea behind the laws of attraction. While I have no intention of becoming the next Deepak Chopra, I am keen to understand how we are responsible for what happens to us, how we bring it on to ourselves. The good and the less good.
The laws of attraction are a vibration we give out. Those on literally the same wavelength, on the same page as us, on the same energy frequency level, will pick the vibe and be receptive to what we give off and respond to it. The good news is that we can cultivate the laws of attraction, tweak them to make them work for us in a positive constructive manner. Therefore in order to attract positivity in the wider world and make the laws of attraction work for me, I am advised by Joanne to write a gratitude list, to love myself (and say it in the mirror!), to exude that happy self, or train myself into it until it becomes second nature, come rain or shine! It's a personal brand overhaul that puts you in the power seat, with none of that PR disaster image which we are all too often tempted to project as an excuse for defeat and potential failure (I'm not worth it! I can't do it! Nothing good will ever happen to me! There's no point in me trying! etc.).
You get it, the positive attitude within the laws of attraction shapes that frame of mind and works its way out: how you present yourself, project yourself, your expectations out of life, for yourself, a potential partner, relationships, career etc. And that's what makes the laws of attraction so compellingly attractive!
Where do you start? How soon is soon? How long is a piece of string? As I am preparing myself to step out the comfort zone, I have a thousand questions and very few answers. Thankfully friends have been supportive, no matter how vague I still am about it all at this stage. Somewhere in my mind I have started a process and this is a sign of progress and progression, a massive step forward!
The process had been there all along but I was caught in such a spin that I could snap none of the interconnected links that made up the chain I was tied to, or else everything would have fallen off the wayside with harsh consequences. Quit the job with no plan B and la vida loca is likely to take a turn for the worse, as you jeopardise the mortgage and everything home-related, the outgoings, the financial responsibilities, the lifestyle, the prized possessions and the peer pressure that we call The Joneses that keep you in check! It's like a castle of cards crashing down.
At the time I could see no leeway. I envied those who had the luxury to afford a sabbatical with on top of it guarantees from their employer to take them back six months down the line. Now there's a thought. I wonder whether one really wants to settle back into the old job once their travel adventure is over. You have moved on but the old job, old place, old coworkers seem to have remained 'stuck in'. Interesting...
The decision to 'jack it in' was eventually made for me via redundancy and everything else is history. Now I've come a long way and I am in a different place. For starters I have the confidence, the willpower, the drive to go travel and push into those new horizons. It's basically now or never. Also I am no longer a 'slave to the wage' (to quote that Placebo song) in the same way I was back in Manchester. At least that's one good thing about island life: less needs, less spending. I have become less materialistic too. And last but not least I'm back at living at my parents like some grown-up teenager and can offload some of that financial pressure (thanks mum and dad!).
Another massive step forward for me is that I am letting go of my house in Manchester. A couple of weeks ago I decided to put it on the market. As symbolic and sensible this is, it is also part of the 'moving forward' process. Yippee, I am ready to let go! After hesitating for the best part of two years it has now become crystal clear that I have no intention of moving back to Manchester, the reason being that I have moved on. So why linger in the past when the best things are yet to come!
When it might look like all's well that ends well for the elephant cause, don't let false ideas kid you... Pachyderms are still being poached and tracked down for their ivory today. The cull is gross and is wrong, and unless we voice our discontent and keep boycotting ivory goods, the illegal trade will carry on regardless of the Law and regardless of the ban.
What can you do as an individual? Remain vigilant, spread the word around you, sign elephant welfare petitions, join us in the Elephant March (see below) and support wild animal charities like the IFAW (International Fund for Animal Welfare). In other words, use every opportunity available to make sure you give elephants a voice!
Put together, those seemingly insignificant acts will help strenghten the elephant protection cause and hopefully stamp the massacre. Remember: elephants are finite and extinction is therefore a strong possibility under the current situation they find themselves in. Once they're gone for ever, it will just be too late! And ultimately do you really want 'the lucky few' to be parked in zoos and safari parks, rather than free to roam in the wild like their elders? So spare a couple of minutes now for a worthwhile cause. (to be continued)
I am so sorry guys for our regular week-end feature - A Week-End Wonderweb - being a no-show this week. Nothing to do with a lack of inspiration or some diary mishap. Simply I have been mad busy lately on a number of personal and work-related fronts, going places, meeting people, and not in the right frame of mind to just sit down and plan my blog ahead as I would normally do...
Thing is, I doubt I will be able to make it up to you this coming week as I am off to sunny Manchester! That's right - and I am excited about this trip! Not exactly a leisurely city break either although I will be taking my mum with me and I'll make sure we can squeeze in a bit of shopping and sightseeing between appointments. I'll even take my camera with me as I intend to be snapping away for the blog.
The point of no return for mother and son? (picture source)
As soon as I'm back to France, I will be embarking upon a busy Summer schedule workwise, yet this doesn't mean La Baguette is compromised, just that I might not be as wordy as I would normally, and the monthly output may get reduced a notch. On the other hand, I have exciting ideas in store for La Baguette! So just relax and stay put, my friends.
Meanwhile I thought I'd share with you a touching moment I caught recently via the IFAW* newsletter (blog) which related an incident in Assam (North East India), in late April, whereby a newborn elephant slipped down a narrow ravine and became trapped while sustaining injuries. His worried mum joined him down, and she too got injured. A rescue team quickly got organised to pull the distressed pair out to safety. The calf was rescued first and he thankfully survived his ordeal despite initial fears. After a stint in intensive care, it looks like he is slowly pulling through. Unfortunately his mummy died soon after her baby was rescued.
With France's Mothers Day just around the corner, this is a beautiful yet extremely touching tribute to motherly love and care. Click here to read the full report.
* IFAW = International Fund for Animal Welfare
All photography in this article by the IFAW - Wildlife Trust of India's field communications officer, Sashanka Barbaruah, in Assam (Northeast India).
