The Breath That Changed My Days

As a sixth grader living in Mira Road, Mumbai, my days used to follow a tight schedule. School, tuition, homework, repeat. I would rush from one place to another. Mornings were for school. Afternoons were for tuition. Evenings were for more studying. There was never much time to breathe or think about anything else. I liked studying, but the hurry never left me. I felt tired a lot. I also had asthma, so some days felt heavier than others.

Before the flute entered my life, my routine felt stuck. I was always worried about tests and marks. I wanted to do well, so I pushed myself. But pushing too much made me short of breath sometimes. People would tell me to slow down. I tried, but I did not know how. The days all looked the same: wake up, hurry, study, sleep. There was no hobby, no quiet moment just for me.

The idea of learning the flute came from my mother. One day she asked me if I wanted to try it. She said it might help my asthma. At first, I thought it was a strange suggestion. Why a flute? But I had been to many concerts. I liked the sound of the flute when I heard it. It sounded calm and strong at the same time. The idea of trying something new, something musical, felt exciting. So I said yes. Part of me wanted to fix my breathing, and part of me wanted to try a new hobby. That was the exact moment everything started to change.

The beginning was not easy. I remember my first days with the side flute. I could not make the right sound. No matter how I put my lips or how hard I tried to blow, the flute would either scream or make no sound at all. I got very frustrated. I am not very patient. If something takes more than a month to show progress, I usually give up. I had quit other things before because I did not see quick results. This time felt the same. The wrong notes, the breath that did not flow the way I wanted — it all made me feel like quitting.

There was a moment when I almost stopped lessons completely. I felt stupid and stuck. I wanted to make music like the people I had seen at concerts, but I was far from that. My mother noticed. She kept encouraging me in a calm way. She did not push or nag. She would say small things: “Try again,” or “You did better today.” Those words mattered. My teacher also helped me with small exercises for breathing and lip position. We practiced slowly. I learned to break my goal into tiny steps. Instead of trying to play a whole song, I focused on one sound, then one scale note at a time.

One day, when I was practicing alone at home, something clicked. I was randomly playing swara — just practicing the seven notes without thinking too much. Suddenly everything felt right. The sound came out clean. I played all seven swara correctly. Then I tried higher and lower notes. I managed three octaves. I remember that exact moment. I stood there with the flute in my hands and could not stop smiling. It was like a small door opened inside me. That click was not loud or dramatic. It was quiet. But inside, it felt huge.

After that day, my practice felt different. I stopped being so impatient. I learned that small progress adds up. The flute taught me patience without me even wanting to learn that lesson. I found myself happier during practice. I could see how my breathing was improving little by little. It became easier to control my breath. My teacher showed me exercises that made my lungs stronger. My mother would clap when she heard a note that sounded right. Those small celebrations made me want to keep going.

Real life changed too. I used to avoid running or playing too hard because I worried about an asthma attack. Now I find those moments happening less and less. I can run with my friends more often. I joined a small game at school without thinking about my breathing for the first time in a long while. It was a simple thing, but it made me feel free. Playing the flute outside practice times helped me notice my breathing. I could take deeper breaths without panic. When my chest felt tight, I remembered the breathing exercises and used them. Many times the tightness went away. My parents noticed the change and smiled with relief.

The flute also changed how I handle stress. Before, I would get tense about tests or deadlines. Now, when I feel tight or worried, I pick up the flute for ten minutes. Playing calms me. It clears my head in a way that studying did not. I still study hard, but I plan time to play too. It helps me balance school and life. I feel more patient with my studies. I do not rush so much anymore. The flute taught me to breathe and to be present.

Holding the flute today feels different from that first awkward day. Back then the flute felt foreign. It was a tool I did not know how to use. Today it feels familiar and warm, like an old friend. I love the flute more than many things now. It has a permanent place in my heart. When I look at it, I do not see just wood and holes. I see the afternoons I practiced, the times I almost quit, the day everything clicked, and the runs I can take without fear. The flute reminds me of all that.

I still have a long way to go. I want to learn more ragas and play in front of people without getting nervous. I want to use my music to help others who have breathing problems, maybe share what worked for me. But I am not rushing. I know now how small steps build something bigger. If someone asks me whether learning the flute was worth it, I would say yes without hesitation. It gave me breath, calm, and a new part of myself I did not know existed.

If you are thinking about trying something new — whether for health or just for joy — try it. It might seem hard at first. You might want to quit. That is okay. Keep going a little longer than you think you should. Small wins add up. For me, the flute has turned rushed days into moments I look forward to. It has made me stronger and more patient. And every time I play a clean swara, I remember that I did not give up.

— Yudhir deepak Sankaranarayanan