The Wonders of Music

The wonders of an ipod. I can't imagine how impossible it would have been sharing the universal world of music before the digital age. Even with the cd player in the orphanage, the music which Deepa is exposed to consisted of crackling church songs, old Hindi tunes or children's rhymes on a continuous loop. There is little possibility for melodies to be examined or pitch explored. Instead, the music crackles from the speakers and Deepa will usually find a space to dance, and if she has a pair of hands to hold onto all the better. But the ipod contains hundreds of songs from every genre; world music from classical to hip hop at a touch of an (invisible) button. Witnessing Deepa's reaction is incredible, especially as she hasn't made the connection between the ipod and the music, but rather has been woed by the mysteries of the headphones.

The first challenge is finding a place out of the grabbing curiosity of the other kids and the suspicious eyes of the massis, so our rudimentary 'music therapy' has been incorporated into our park visits. We do the usual routine where I try and encourage Deepa to take the lead; from the squeaking sea-saw to the fluttering birds and back to the singing merry-go-round swing. We then sit on the big swing for four people (or a dozen kids if it is Sunday playtime). As soon as she feels the plastic wires of the headphones she will quickly try and stuff them into her ears, immediately relating the object with the sound but unsure of exactly which part the music comes from. I try and pry her fingers away from the wires and her hands from her head, as she buckles into herself to guard against potential sabotage. If I am tricky I am able to maneuver the ear piece towards her ears, and then she will let go of the wire and instead place her palms flat against the sides of her face, securing the ear-piece to ear connection.

Sometimes she has grabbed the headphones before I have selected a song. As soon as the relevant piece is in the correct place and all she hears is silence, she will throw the headphones down as if she has been purposefully deceived. I will then have to coax her to try again by turning up the volume so she can be reassured that it is playing, and then she will allow me to reconnect her. As I do so, she remains incredibly quiet. Her eyebrows knit into a frown, as she protects the headphones with one hand over each of her ears. She concentrates incredibly intensely, and does so with all of her attention as I sit by her side diligently preparing her play list, to take her on a musical adventure across time and space.

Her musical repertoire now includes the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Monkees, the best of David Bowee, REM, Queen, the Cookie Monster (a real winner), Blasted Mechanism Empire, Manu Chau, Flamenco, Salsa and Ray Charles. However, her strongest reactions have been to Bach and 'The Pianist' by Janusz Olejnicza. The first time she heard Bach her stillness was broken as she opened up her body towards the sky, straightening her spine, tipping her head back and grinning. This initiated a series of crazy rocking movements as her whole body followed the rhythm of the music.

When I fade out the last song, Deepa will wait, fingers still securely protecting the headphones and her ears. Eventually, she will remove her hands and let them fall down. She looks as if she is abandoning them for not keeping their side of their bargain and sharing their wonderful sounds with her. If I try a poor attempt of singing a melody that she is familiar with more or less immediately, she will join me. She doesn't necessarily make the same sounds as me, but she will follow the rhythm and the tone.

It is moments such as these that I really feel I am communicating in a very direct way with her. The other times, it is so difficult for those not familiar with her facial expressions and body language to realise that Deepa is finding her own way to talk – perhaps it is not the most valued way (as we all use body language, but tend to reply more on verbal communication) but she is definately very adept at using her body and facial expressions to say what she wants. The challenge now is trying to help her to tune into speech – to realise that what she says does matter and that eventually words will have a meaning for her because those around her will respond to them. Perhaps it is because she does not trust words; because even her actions of trying to fight off food she does not like makes no difference, or her attempts to explore the objects around her are controlled and their function left unexplained, or because the languages surrounding her are random and actually have no meaning, as “la la la” and “ba ba's” fill her head, along with random baby noises. She also has to filter through the direct and (usually) indirect languages of the volunteers' Spanish, French, German, Japanese, Korean and English, the Massis' Bengali and the Sisters' Hindi. A melody of sounds with little relevance.

I often try and image what it would be like to understand the world from Deepa's perspective. To never have seen the source of sounds, and often restricted from exploring them through touch. To have a very different measure of 'normality' as her peers are mostly physically or mentally disabled, and her carers are continuously changing.

Just try – think of how you learned about the meaning of objects (through show and tell), the function of objects (through watching the cause and effect), how our verbal communication only represents a tiny percentage of our actions, attitudes and experiences. Just think of all of the gaps that are left blank if you cannot see our world, if there is no one to explain it to you, and if you have yet to fully tune into the common perception of reality.