Friday afternoon I’m sitting in my little corner of The Deaf Way office when the director walks in energising the place with his presence. Every one smiles, everyone is happy to see Mr Happy (Arun Rao’s sign name). I wave and carry on with my work.

“BANG” I jump up to see what has exploded and I see the 5 or six of my deaf colleagues quite unconcernedly blowing up balloons. Now my attitude to balloons is one of intense dislike bordering on phobia. Who should invent such a toy that can cause a sudden and terrifying outburst of noise on poor unsuspecting parents? What sadistic toy designer came up with the idea? Balloons have never been any good to anyone.

Well I was about to be proved wrong. After a lot of huffing and puffing, twenty or so young deaf women and men sat down each gently holding a balloon between two hands. Seated in front of them was Ravid, a young man wearing white gloves and holding what appeared to be a dented wok.

I watched at first puzzled and then entranced as Ravid began to coax wonderful music from his hang. (not a wok after all). The deaf students watched and gradually feet began to tap and smiles grew as the power and rhythm of the music flowed through the balloons into their hands.

One young woman had tears in her eyes as she experienced the joy of the music for the first time.

A great afternoon for both deaf and hearing enjoying music together.

You can see more information about Ravid and his hang on his website: www.ravidhang.com

There is more information about The Deaf Way Foundation on www.thedeafway.org

The people of Delhi have inherited from their Mogul ancestors a love for pigeons. As you drive along the roads of Delhi you will see areas where people come to feed these pesky birds.

Hundreds of them flock to these feeding areas but many also try to roost on our balcony too. A daily task for me is to go round with a damp cloth and wipe pigeon poo off all the outside surfaces. Often as I reach the end of one stretch of marble balustrade there are two or three of our feathered friends toileting themselves again behind me. The job must be done though otherwise we’d have a guano pit all round our house.

The cultural divide was never so wide as in my attitude to these cooing creatures versus the attitude of my Indian colleagues. I arrived at work one day to find the door to the office closed. This was puzzling as the heat of the Delhi summer was still with us. I pushed the door open and people at once indicated that I should close it behind me. The explanation?

The previous day two pigeons had flown in. They had visited the office several times but this time a tragic fate awaited one of the pair of love doves. The whirling ceiling fan caught the female and spun it round in a haze of feathers and pink pigeon bits. The male flew out in a panic but was still seen for several days sitting forlorn and alone mourning its mate. He kept trying to come into the office to find her; so it was thought best to keep the door closed.

How long did he remain faithful? Well it seemed like he was there on his own for about two weeks and then suddenly there were a pair of pigeons sitting on the ledge again. Widower and new love or two completely different birds? Who knows? At least that was one pair not using my balcony as a toilet.