It is a poignant scene. The female camel has rejected its calf, which will not be able to survive without its mother's milk. Only when a musician is called for, playing the horse-head fiddle and accompanied by the equally soothing voice of a herder, is the beast calmed enough to accept and nurse its offspring.

The importance of the traditional ethnic Mongolian instrument, also known as the morin khuur, goes way beyond its practical use for the nomadic herders. The scene, taken from new movie Song of Love, illustrates the fiddle's cultural significance for the dwellers of the vast, breathtaking steppe. One of the main characters in the film, a master morin khuur player, considers music to be a distinguishing quality of his community.

I was fortunate enough to experience Song of Love at its premiere in the Great Hall of the People in Beijing last weekend. The movie is based on a true story of ethnic Mongolians in the Inner Mongolia autonomous region adopting Han children who lost their families during times of famine.

It takes a while for the children to get used to life on the plains－settling in traditional ger tent-like homes, learning to ride the feisty but reliable Mongolian pony-sized mounts, and facing ferocious wolves deep in the night－but the magical presence of song and music is always felt, reverberating through their newfound lives.

Female protagonist Aruuna herself has received the honor of becoming a vocalist of the famous Wulanmuqi art troupe, but cannot bear to leave a young new member of the tribe behind.

The singer, whose spellbinding voice traverses through the steppe like the haunting sounds of the morin khuur, finally manages to keep by her side her adopted daughter, who is given the Mongolian name Saren meaning "Moon", to the delight of the troupe's other performers.

True to its form, the movie's characters speak mostly in their ethnic Mongolian language that is made accessible to audiences via English and Chinese subtitles. One song, titled Mother, is especially fitting for the story:

I ask the clouds way up in the sky,

Where is mother?

The passing wisps tell me,

She is among the pure, white flocks of sheep;

I ask the steeds of the steppe,

Where is mother?

The galloping herds tell me,

Mother is in the sea of coral lily fields;

I ask the stars that fill the night sky,

Where is mother?

The stars whisper to me in my sleep,

Mother is felt in the floating fragrance of milk tea.

Mother, my kind mother,

Your love is like the sweet dew that waters the earth,

Filling the grassland with hope and vitality;

Mother, my dear mother,

No matter where and when,

You will always be in the hearts of your sons and daughters.

Shout out, Mother,

Praise to your singing that spreads through the steppe,

Covering a hundred thousand miles.

Saren's voice echoes through the plains.

(Translated from Chinese by the writer)