How a boy and his eagle in Mongolia helped a grieving Singaporean son to let go – and create the book he needed
Artist Siyuan Aw’s debut picture book Our Wings As One began with a solitary journey to Mongolia, and an extraordinary meeting with a boy and his eagle – who taught him the strength to let go, and the courage to begin again.
Siyuan Aw, Bekku and his eagle in Mongolia. (Photo: Siyuan Aw)
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The first time Siyuan Aw met Bekku, the 17-year-old was standing on top of his family’s hut somewhere in Mongolia’s Altai Mountains, phone raised skywards trying to catch a signal and frustrated by the choppy connection.
And then he called out to his golden eagle, which emerged from the clouds and landed on his outstretched arm. It was a bond unlike anything Aw had witnessed.
That encounter would eventually become the seed of a seven-year book journey, which resulted in Our Wings As One, a debut picture book that was recently shortlisted for the Hedwig Anuar Children’s Book Award 2026.
WHEN THE WORLD GOT TOO LOUD
Back in 2018, Aw had arrived in Mongolia dealing with burnout and grief. The 43-year-old Singaporean had been working as the chief strategy officer of a leading advertising agency in Shanghai, where he was consumed by the relentless pace of agency life.
“Everyone seemed to have something to say about everything,” Aw recalled. “My world was getting louder, noisier,” he said. “My phone was a prison. I lived inside it – small, pixelated, trapped.”
The noise surrounding Aw felt impossible to escape – and the grief he had already been dealing with finally dismantled it all. The quick death of his mother from cancer a few years ago had marked a profound rupture inside him.
“Despite my profession as a brand strategist, I never successfully strategised myself out of my grief,” he recalled.
Gradually, something inside him shifted and not long after, Aw decided to leave the high-octane city of Shanghai and head towards the high-altitude wilderness of West Mongolia.
“It was not about escape,” he said. “I went there to listen again. To remember the language of silence.”
THE BOY AND THE EAGLE
In Ulaanbaatar, a chance encounter with local English teachers led Aw deep into the Altai Mountains, where he stayed with a local family – the first foreigner to have done so, he was told. They were a tribe of eagle hunters, whose lives remained closely tied to the rhythms of the mountains.
Bekku was one of them.
Aw’s early interactions with his new young friend were awkward, bridged eventually by his Canon 5D camera. The two slowly bonded over photography, with Bekku taking Aw on adventures through the mountains.
Despite his age, Bekku sometimes surprised Aw with moments of unexpected insight, what he called “wild wisdoms.”
“Why do you close your eyes when you’re connecting with your eagle in the sky?” Aw had asked him once. “Because the language of our heart needs silence,” Bekku replied. “When we close our eyes, we amplify the inaudible whispers of our soul.”
In another instance, Bekku told him: “My eagle guides me everywhere I go. When I call my eagle, I connect with her spirit. When we fly in the sky, we fly as one.”
Aw was mesmerised by their bond. “We became chasers of twilight, dreamers on rooftops. We would lie beneath the clouds and let our imagination run free. We would chase sunsets not to catch them, but to remember they existed,” he wrote in his journal.
By tradition, eagle hunters do not keep their birds forever – and Aw recalled being there when Bekku had to release his. Raised alongside the teen since childhood, the eagle was not just a hunting partner but also a guardian, teacher and companion.
At sunset, the pair climbed to a mountain peak, where Aw captured Bekku and his eagle one last time together before the bird took flight.
That night, Aw stayed alone on the mountain while Bekku went home. The weight of his own grief settled in. But then he looked up at a constellation of stars that appeared to gather in the shape of wings, and he felt his mother’s presence close beside him.
Aw began to understand: Separation is never quite the end of the story. Later, he told Bekku what he had experienced. “That helps,” Bekku had said, and teared.
PAINTING THROUGH GRIEF
After returning to Shanghai, Aw set out to paint the sky from that night as a gesture to Bekku – to show him what he had seen, returning to Mongolia on subsequent trips over the years. But once he started, something took over; his thoughts drifted to his mother.
“Every time I pressed colour to canvas, she answered,” he said.
Drawing on years of study with oil painting and Chinese ink painting teachers in Shanghai, one painting became many. And eventually a book. When it was completed, Aw described the feeling as “resolution”, the closing of a long chapter of grief.
In November 2025, he debuted a self-published version of Our Wings As One at Creative Mornings, a free monthly breakfast lecture series in Singapore, where every book sold saw a copy donated to the Children’s Cancer Foundation.
In March of the following year, the French version, Des Ailes Pour Deux, was published by Les Editions du Pacifique. It was launched at The Hood Paris, a Singaporean-run cultural third-space of food, art and conversations, and had an accompanying exhibition at Galarie 65.
The book was eventually shortlisted for the 2026 Hedwig Anuar Children’s Book Award in the Picture Book category in Singapore. The English edition was launched during the Asian Festival of Children’s Content (AFCC) in May.
The book’s images were painted in oil on canvas and evoke the atmospheric works of French Impressionist Monet and the German Romantic Caspar David Friedrich. It is a luminous tale of wonder and love written for anyone facing grief and loss.
“Like it or not, there will be a day where we lose our loved ones. The book is for anyone who has wandered through the long night of loss, and needed a little light to hold on to. And if it offers any kind of solace, that’s enough,” he said.
THE NEXT FLIGHT
Today, Aw shuttles between Singapore and China, serving as global head of brand at Norlha and Norden, two Tibetan social enterprises.
He is also already at work on his next book, incidentally bird-themed as well. Unlike the stark, sparse landscapes of Mongolia, the treatment this time is lush, bold and tropical. Inspired by his travels in the Amazon and the Andes, it will draw on myth, magic and indigenous knowledge, where hornbills serve as plant teachers and spiritual messengers.
Incidentally, a pair of them has recently taken to visiting his home, sometimes perching on his canvas. Beyond that, he refuses to say more. “I shan’t break the spell,” he said with a laugh.
Reflecting on his journey, Aw said loss has changed the way he moves through the world. “Sometimes growth comes from letting go. From travelling without a map, being open, and allowing ourselves to be part of a bigger narrative.”
Our Wings As One is available at Kinokuniya Singapore, Woods in the Books, Littered with Books, Wardah Books, Book Bar, Eliko, and other major and independent bookstores.
Source: CNA/mm
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