In the quiet nights of an elephant rescue center in northeastern India, two orphaned calves named Rupa and Aashi used to cry themselves to sleep. Their mothers were gone — lost to the cruelty of poaching and the chaos of human encroachment. All that remained was the cold, hard concrete floor beneath them and the distant hum of the forest they no longer called home.
Rupa, only three months old, had fallen down a steep rocky bank, her cries echoing through the jungle until villagers found her and carried her to safety. Aashi, a little older at eleven months, had been discovered alone in a tea garden. For a brief moment, rescuers managed to reunite her with her herd — but by the next morning, she was abandoned once more.
They were safe, yes. But they were lonely. And at night, when the temperature dropped and their small bodies shivered, no amount of straw or blankets could replace a mother’s warmth.
That’s when Dr. Panjit Basumatary, a veterinarian at the International Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW) center, came up with an idea that would melt hearts around the world.
He decided to make them pajamas.
And not just pajamas — he also crafted soft night socks and tiny elephant-sized boots to keep them warm and comfortable while they slept.
At first, the keepers laughed. Baby elephants in pajamas? It sounded absurd. But when they saw how the calves reacted — calm, cozy, and finally able to rest through the night — no one laughed again.
Rupa, the smaller of the two, was the first to try on her outfit. She blinked curiously, flapped her ears, and then leaned against her caretaker with a sigh — the kind that comes from feeling safe for the first time in a long while. Aashi watched closely, then followed suit, wrapping herself in her own soft blanket, her tiny trunk curling with curiosity.
“Warmth is more than temperature,” Dr. Basumatary said quietly. “It’s comfort. It’s love. These little ones need both.”
Under the team’s gentle care, the calves began to heal — not just physically, but emotionally. They played in the mornings, trumpeting shyly at one another, and at night, they would nudge close to their caretakers before drifting off in their cozy pajamas.
Their recovery, however, wasn’t simple. Raising even one orphaned elephant is expensive — nearly £50 a day during the first few months. Their boots wear out every two weeks, their bottles of formula are endless, and their needs are constant. But every penny, every sleepless night, every act of care matters.
Because one day, when they are strong enough — when their legs are sturdy, their trunks confident, and their hearts healed — Rupa and Aashi will return to the wild. The team hopes to release them into Kaziranga or Manas National Park, where they can join herds of their own and live the life they were meant to have.
For now, they are growing — curious, playful, and deeply loved. Their caretakers feed them, walk them through the forest trails, and tuck them in at night like children. The sound of their trunks brushing against each other has become a lullaby of hope.
Dr. Basumatary often stands at the edge of their pen in the evenings, watching them settle into their blankets. “You see?” he says with a smile. “They sleep better than most of us.”
And perhaps that’s the quiet miracle of this story — not just that two frightened baby elephants found comfort again, but that the people who saved them reminded the world what compassion looks like.
Because sometimes, saving a life doesn’t take grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s just a pair of handmade pajamas — stitched with patience, wrapped in kindness, and filled with love.
