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PODCAST

Uncut Poetry

Sunil Bhandari is a poet by compulsion. He says he survives in this world because he can get to write poetry. This podcast is of his poetry.

arts performing arts

All Episodes

04:28

Maybe, a Little Kindness

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/02/17

I have often been cruel. Knowingly, unconsciously. With people closest to me, and invariably because I take them for granted. So it is a mini tragedy, when I sit down and have a conversation - and I’m short, I’m angry, I’m sarcastic. Take my mum - she is frail now, though her voice still has passion, but is veering towards gentle tones now. And I can ‘win’ any battle by the sheer dint of volume. Pyrrhic victory, if there ever was one, as she goes silent, and I keep reading the newspaper as if

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04:08

Replay - A Home as an Open Dream

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/02/10

This is a repeat of one of my more popular poems, replayed with the hope of getting a new audience, who might have missed it. "We would talk of the day to make the outside world our own, and lay joint claim to our individual memories." A home is of so many definitions. The place we grow in, the place we get our first intimations of the living world, the place we are desperate to get to at the end of a day - but also the place we are desperate to leave as we grow. Often a shelter, often a

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04:34

I Like The Ordinary Life

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/02/03

This awareness, this stopping to see something insignificant, the overwhelming desire not to look at my mobile for long moments - I sometimes think it’s aging which is doing this to me. The fact that I have seen a bit of life, of tragedy and joy, of the big events of life and some, and no longer wish for the large and the loud. Now what stops me are things which seem to happen in passing. A snatch of music, the stitching of a happy conversation, a stray comment followed with a comfortable silence,

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04:03

A Sense of Her Tenderness

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/01/27

I doubt if there’s anybody who tends to words with such infinite tenderness. For her, they are rounded pebbles on a seashore, sea waves washing over naked feet, the gentle curve of the sea at the horizon. She holds words the way I hold her. But strangely when I think of her, it is always with a silent smile, like a truth which leaves us speechless, the way the sun slips out as a guest does when tired of a party. I sometimes feel there’s too little of her in this world, someone who feels the

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04:42

The Woman You See

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/01/20

We as persons are so much of the people who inhabit our lives. Not only by way of how they are connected to us and change the trajectory of our lives, but what they mean to us by way of how our souls evolve. But beyond it all is their influence on our minds and hearts to define to us what we are. Sometimes we are unsure of our own abilities to achieve, to fulfil, to create. And though we might be brimming with every talent, we might be an uncertain wreck inside, unable to comprehend the intensity

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05:01

How a Poem Finds Itself

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/01/13

We are never as strong as we feel we are. What’s ostensible, what’s shown, matters little. As we walk, with our eyes wide open, sometimes in wonder, often in fear, we need someone beside us to interpret the world. A conversation is the blood flow of a love story. To be generous enough to listen without interpretation, to hear without interruption, is a gift we give our loved ones. Because we already trust them. And everything we share with them is only an expansion of the shared world. There’s

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04:46

Your Body is a Truth

Uncut Poetry ·

2024/01/06

Deep inside, we all seek grounding. In the complex hullabaloo of desires, facades and one-upmanship, within sudden dollops of searing clarity, we search for the timbre of our being and realise the glitzy syncretic synthetic fabric it is made of. And the disquiet emerges. If the rot in our beings is not all-pervasive, the disquiet is a beginning to our conscience wanting redemption. We want to return to a point where we’d not lost our innocence though the ways of the world might have brought both

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04:24

What Stretches in Front

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/12/30

As 2023 turns its back with a sigh, we walk into a brand new year. Hope - with all its bewitching deceptions - will make us wish for our best selves, to slough off the undesirable and ugly, and emerge fresh and wet, with unfazed optimism to conquer the world. But soon enough, we will know that, as always, all we need to do is to conquer ourselves. And I sit down and make a list of what I want to leave behind in the old year and another list of what I want of the new year. And then I realise. -

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05:56

Letting Go (because I’m alive)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/12/23

One of the incredible things which are little talked about, but one which I notice ever so often around me, is how the loss of love often frees a person in magical ways. I tell myself - it can’t be love if it’s absence gives the feeling of liberation. But I also know how life’s bounty comes in contrarian ways. There is life within love, but there could well be revelry beyond. I know of at least two ladies, who have had solid and steady and happy married lives, but after the demise of their

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04:15

Replay - The Complexity of Simple Lives

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/12/16

This is a repeat of one of my more popular poems, replayed with the hope of getting a new audience, who might have missed it. An ordinary life is so complex. In its unending inevitabilities and Gordian knots it is both an unravelling puzzle and an enduring mystery. To mesh our life’s experiences with those who we love, is itself a quotidian Everest to be conquered. And we slip, and we fail, and we try valiantly and fail miserably. And then we pick ourselves up and start all over again, and then we

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05:20

Changing Your Address (on marrying & moving homes)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/12/09

My son got married a few days back to his sweetheart. Both of them make an adorable couple. As always I’m in awe of people in love who decide to marry each other. I know the atavistic urges and the reasons why we seek to gravitate towards a permanence in our deepest relationships, but I also know how the shelters of each other’s arms is ever so often open to storms and thunder. Roofs leak, houses get blown away. The reason why we marry could also be the reason we suffer. But from time

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05:42

Birthday Musings of an Ageing Man

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/12/02

So much of old age - like life itself - is of acceptance. I saw a young girl, without fear or preconception, pet a dog which had just snapped at me. She simply found the love inside her and in some mysterious manner it transmitted to the dog. And I wondered if this wasn’t exactly what life was - like that instinctive dog, which subconsciously knew the deepest instinct of love or indifference. And so much of how we age - happily forgetful or bitterly reminiscing - is how we’ve lived. We often

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06:20

Replay - The Things We Become When We Leave

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/11/25

This is a repeat of one of my more popular poems, replayed with the hope of getting a new audience, who might have missed it. "I have gone, love, now let me go." We are all changeable creatures. 50 billion of our cells die every day, physically we are not the same today as we were yesterday. And that irrefutable truth seeps into the very core of our beings. Every day, we change as persons too - imperceptibly, almost surreptitiously: the people we meet, the experiences we stumble into, what our

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05:21

Of Love (& other bouts of sadness)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/11/18

I’ve been thinking these past few days of sanctuaries - of how we take some for granted, how we crave for some. Sometimes both at the same time. I also think of how homes are most often our sanctuaries - but so are memories, so are our desires, as also our regrets. We regret chances we got and didn’t hold onto - we console ourselves that the chances at least stopped by at our doorstep. Of course, the shelter of first choice, and last resort, is often a person. Someone who listens, doesn’t spoil

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07:15

The Tragedy of the Other

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/11/11

Like almost every human being in this world, I am perforce political. The fact that I rarely let that side of me seep into my art, hasn’t stopped me from seeing, reading, feeling, reacting. And the singular skew of the narrative and the increasing sharpness of tone of response, and the frightening cohesion of ideologues is disturbing. It’s a tragedy of our times that time and again we face a world where human beings are razed into dust - and we are asked to be selectively outraged. One foetus torn

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05:03

Mornings (as entry points to life)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/11/04

Mornings are such fabulous entry points. This time of dark departures and silent welcomes. Something which is sheltered tenderly through the night is brought out, a chance to wipe every falling tear, the time to see if blossoms can blossom to wipe the night’s sorrow, when the pleasure of the view far surpasses the depth of a nightmare. I often wake up feeling stale, helplessly hoping for streaks of light, and step out into the uncertain dawn, which wonders about its status, but still moves ahead

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05:38

Love as a Snack

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/10/28

As the years have gone by, I must confess life has confused more than clarified. Possibly life is a tease, urging me to study the deeper truths of our being, meditate on possibilities, and find what sustains, what doesn’t. And till that happens, I stay in the splendid anagrams of my confusions. And first up on that is - love. Having a life full of seeing it, reading of it, passing through it, being abandoned by it, seeing it implode around me, knowing it to be the ash it is, love is a puzzle, to

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04:50

What I Miss is The Tender Moment

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/10/21

I keep returning to the themes of missing out on the small things which make us feel human, nay, which reward us because we are human. And how their absence is often the biggest tragedy of our lives. Often the absence is because of unawareness; but when we yearn for them, search for them, the tangibility of tragedy is like physical pain. Our home then becomes just an address, often the one we love becomes just a habit. And roiled in the battles of the day, we lose out on the tender moment. The

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03:54

Loneliness (oh these rains)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/10/14

The more I live the more I understand - and appreciate - the import of interconnectedness and transience of all things. The rains come, and so does a gnawing feeling seeking something undefinable; love comes with its fullness, and we wait for the infinitesimal more; the lane we stay is alive with sandwich cafés and chairs on pavements and we sit alone, worse, feeling alone; the temple bells and the sound of om carries to us and we think of our place in the world. The universe carries us in its

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05:18

Darkness

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/10/07

Of course, relationships have rules. The fact that we are animals plus, a more evolved species, only recognizes the fact that humans are feeling, trusting, hurting beings. And in the depth of that reality lies the fact of what makes us much more than merely sentient. Alas, there are also transient feelings which gatecrash this party of lifelong-commitments. Because beneath the veneer of manicured gardens are also wild roses desperate to break free. Because relationships are intrinsically a riddle

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