It's spring in the Gobi desert, south of Mongolia.

A family of nomadic shepherds witnesses the birth of a calf.

The routine is broken with a difficult birth of one of the small calves.

The mother camel rejects him.

On one hand the calf, white, hardly being able to support itself by standing up, wanting to feed on his mother; on the other hand, she runs away from him, pawing at him, while tending to the other calf; the rejected one moans and in vain follows his mother in the dry landscape.

The Mongolian family and neighbors try to force the mother to tend and feed her calf. All in vain.

There is only one solution, says one of the family members. Have someone call the musician. And so the musical miracle started to take place.

Two young boys gather their own camels, in an adventure towards a neighboring village to try and find the musician.

It's a poor village, but with many modern things: motorcycles, television, and in the music school, inside that desert, young men and women played and danced to the sound of instruments, as if the art itself sprung beautifully from the rocks.

The music teacher, as if a doctor of the village called for an emergency, travels with his instrument made of strings and bow to try and resolve the question of rejection at hand.

He arrives. And in the open, first places the instrument with a beautiful blue ribbon on the back of the mother camel. The Mongolian family watches the scene.

A gentle breeze starts to play the strings of the instrument. Nature in itself plays its own harmonic wisdom. The mother camel takes notice. All the camels take notice of a soft musical sound reordering their senses.

They look up, sharpen their ears and wait. Then, the musician takes his instrument and starts playing it. The owner of the mother camel sings and pats the animal.

And while the strings and cords play, and the voice sings, the mother camel begins to accept the calf, pushing at him gently so he may be fed. The calf once rejected and unhappy, desperately happy accepts the gesture and feeds off of his mother.

While he is being fed, the music continues, and strikingly something happens.

Tears, one by one start flowing from the mother camel's eyes, showing signs that nature has rediscovered itself, rejection has been overcome, and fondness united in a loving wholesomeness the separated elements.

*   *   *

We, humans, in the audience, watched stunned. Amazed.The Mongolians at the scene only takes notice of one more exercise based on their millenarian knowledge.

We, who lose contact with the micro and macrocosm, were amazed at our own ignorance of the most simple and essential things.

The ancients spoke of musical therapy. Cases about musical instruments that were used to soften the rage, cure deafness, hypochondria and even healed the desire to persecute.

The Hindu mystical thought was that life is embodied in the Universe by the first audible sound - a D flat - and that words would only come at a later time.

We, at the age of technology, instant communication, of the scientific advancements never before dreamed of... Us? What do we know of these things?

Things that camels already know, that Mongolians live by. Sentiments and matters of the heart. What do we know about?

Did we know that even camels cry?