Learning breath control..!

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Something that we have been teach
ing the world, through different mod
ules and methods is breath control! And we are excellent at it! “Hold your breath!” says the desi instructor in New York and in other such classes thousands of people do so, and then slowly, ever so slowly exhale. But even as they do so, they marvel at the control their instructors have over their breathing.
“Where did you learn such control?” they ask him and his mind goes to his childhood: “Hold your breath!” whispers his mother as he goes to school and both mother and son hold their breath, till they safely pass rotting garbage dump. “Don’t breathe!” I tell myself as I see dead carcass of a crow lying next to ten sweepers enjoying their morning cup of tea. “Don’t breathe!” I tell myself again as I pass still rotting crow next morning and as one of the sweepers waves to me as I stare at dead bird.
The third day I let out a sigh of relief but quickly hold on to remaining breath as I see dead bird with innards exposed dragged few feet into a bush, but alas still emitting telltale smell. This time, all the sweepers wave to me. I point to dead crow and all of them look sadly at the sky. Like I said we taught the rest of the world to hold their breath and still continue to hold our own. My friend called me from England. “Bob,” he said, “I’ve started breathing exercises and it’s amazing! I’ve got a dozen of you chaps in my class, and you should see them with their …”
“Breath control!” I shouted.
“Yes,” he shouted back, “it’s a gift!” “It comes with the land!” I shouted back. “You’re ucky!” he said. Suddenly I understand. The dead crow or part of it is still lying under the bushes the next day. I hold my breath and pass by, but with smile on my face. The sweepers are at their tea.
“Thanks!” I tell them. “We thought you’d never understand,” says Bachu the sweeper with the cleanest broom. “But we held our breaths!” says Ramu. “We knew you’d get the point,” smiles Pandu. “That the reason we didn’t clean up,” they all shout, “so you would learn breath control!” I nod happily and peel out a hundred rupee note which I give Bachu, the sweeper with the cleanest broom, “For keeping me…” “Breathless!” he whispers and the others nod as they finish their tea and go home as I watch the dead crow still lying where it’s been lying for the fourth day, and realize how lucky I am, as I hold my breath …!

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