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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

04:15

Replay : Come When The Heat Of Noon Has Still Not Dimmed

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/05/13

This is a repeat of one of my more popular poems, replayed here with a hope of getting a new audience, who might have missed it! "Come. Come softly. Come when the heat of noon has still not dimmed. Come when the streets have stopped asking questions. Come when the world has left its own care to us. Come." In anticipation lies a whole universe. In the waiting lies the shape, the sound, the colour, the contour of beauty. In a world strewn with disappointments, of truths with no spine, and lies

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05:50

I Fell In Love With You (Again) Beside The Tin of...

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/05/06

People who are permanent fixtures in our lives still have that unique ability to make happiness spring upon us. It could be something big like a surprise party, or it could be something infinitesimally small like quietly following you to the mall so you could then have a quick happy moment over coffee. Loved ones know how to pull in disparate threads of our being, and weave an ordinary but extraordinary hour out of it, the way we gather the scattered beams of dusk and find a quiet sanctuary in

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04:39

As We Meet Again At The End of The Day

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/04/29

Come evening, I am breathless to come home. Nearer I get, faster the knots in my shoulders ease. I turn my car into the driveway, a few floors below you, and start to forget what I thought I would carry as an elongated wound of the day. I think we make too much of the world’s tribulations and deprivations, as if we are amidst the most dire times of all centuries put together, straining to find equilibrium again. We both carry enough balm in the history of our sharing, to self-heal. I know you

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05:50

When Words Despair For Stories

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/04/22

Can you believe the fact that there are people who go out for a full day and come back home and say there’s no story to tell, no incident to narrate, nothing magical to report. Of course, there is. It’s just that they do not wish to share. It could be disinclination, it could be the hangover of a recrimination, it could be tiredness. After a full day of words, maybe all one seeks at the end is a spot of silence. That it has to be the time when your closest and most loved ones are there is a

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07:10

Gather Me

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/04/15

One of my life’s ongoing struggles has been not to let myself dissipate such that little of me remains for me to enjoy myself. Even worse, as the pieces which the world loves of me gets grabbed, and I stand helplessly as a bystander seeing the world take its fill, and I know myself as empty, not even sure if I remain with my heart intact. Worse - we become strangers inside, trying to keep up with life’s vicissitudes and changes. And then there is a moment when we see our face in the mirror and

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05:52

For The One Who Found Her Silence

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/04/08

How can we ever be prepared for the inevitabilities of loved ones? Our being mortal, our knowing of it, and our facing up to its ascendancy, are all different dynamics. We are never spared it’s agony, it’s feeling of leaving us bereft. As if the death of a loved one was a conspiracy against us, a punishment, maybe, of not paying enough attention to them, of taking them for granted, of giving precedence to the insubstantial over the precious. The amalgam of grief and guilt breaks us, often

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06:39

Letting Go (A Childhood Song)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/04/01

Childhood is a town we have to leave. Home is a destination we have to leave and recreate again and again. Memories are the wealth we carry as reflux. And we create ourselves as our own saviours as we search strange lands. Even as we flee our abandoned bicycles in empty playgrounds, even as we carry hurt as big as childhood’s sandpit, even as we tell ourselves that leaving is the best thing to do, we feel bereft. What is it about childhood that we carry it inside us wherever we go, however far we

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07:41

Tenderness in The Pause

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/03/25

I read this incredible poem today. And I weeped at its infinitesimal beauty. Tenderness by James Crews. Here it is - . Tenderness You know how a half-buried stone in the yard will clear all the snow from around itself, little by little, leaving only a hollow of warmth and a cushion of moss you want to rest on, until winter finally ends? That's how tenderness works in us, some heat rising up from beneath, then spreading outward to touch the lives of anyone who comes near - slowly, softly,

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06:57

Dysfunctional Families (and other joys)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/03/18

Who are we if not products of the first quarry of breath - the family? Raw, unmanaged, planned or perchance - we are babies who enter the universe with our lungs ballistic, versed in the art of annoying everybody, with our insistences and our demand for unwavering attention, but also to beguile. Whether we are a chip of a dream or the product of a ritual or the gift of a drunken night, we are realities in the lives of a couple which looks onto us, sometimes with wonder, more often with unmitigated

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04:59

This: One Grace

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/03/11

Sometimes, without asking, we are gifted grace. It could be the strumming of a guitar from a neighbouring house some lazy afternoon, it could be the first sighting of a butterfly after a harsh winter, it could be a shared glance across a crowded metro coach, it could be the morning sun seeming to bend to greet you as you step into the street, of entering a lift and recognising the song seeping out of someone’s earphone. These are dollops of sundrops left on our soul’s doorstep, almost to remind us

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04:35

Aaschi - a promise

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/03/04

'Aaschi' is a beautiful Bengali word. It’s used when you are leaving home - for work, for pleasantries, for whatever. You say it to the folks you are leaving behind. Instead of saying “I’m going” you say “Aaschi”, which means “I’m coming back.” And this one simple word becomes a promise to return, a pledge that the parting is temporary. In its intonation, meaning and feeling, it’s an intimacy. If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems which talk of the tenderness of love

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05:23

Finding Ways To Survive (Each Other)

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/02/25

Some relationships are doomed. They get off to a bad start, and never hit their stride. Or find their autumn of distrust early, and see no reason to change the season. Often a passing reaction is presumed to be a permanent opinion. Sometimes it’s something shallow, but in the face - hair in the sink, slurping of soup, insensitivity with a joke. The reasons can be myriad. But the rusting which sets in starts its irreversible corrosion. But relationships have their own dynamics. And often

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04:05

Replay: Lose A Lover Not A Friend

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/02/18

This is a repeat of one of my more popular poems, replayed here with a hope of getting a new audience, who might have missed it! Too little, I feel, is talked about heartbreak which arises from friendships which come unstuck. It’s almost as if it doesn’t require comment or commiseration if it’s not love. There’s injustice there. When the truth is that closely wrought bonds which are non sexual often give more shelter to the soul than love can ever do. Friendship is a live-in relationship for the

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06:32

The Love Story of An Accountant & A Poet

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/02/11

I have often looked at couples who are so different from each other that together they seem to move like oil and water. And then I blink and look again, and I see a strange alchemy at work - a layering more than a blending, stitched crochet then a cocktail, a sun-entrenched day than smog. And they progressively look like a gorgeously-knitted piece of warm-wear together. How do people who seem to have nothing in common get attracted to each other, and then find that balance which is the merging of

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05:59

For Nothing More Than A Look Of Me

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/02/04

Don’t we complicate our lives too much? With our desire for more, and then for much more, for affirmations, and then reaffirmations. For a continuous acknowledgment that not only do we matter, but - that we matter more than anybody else. It’s not enough to be together; we want words which confirm that our togetherness matters. We want cards, messages, heart-shaped emojis, birthday presents, outings, likes to our posts. Things which can be seen or talked about. Our feelings can’t only be felt, they

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06:46

Ruins Have Permanent Flames

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/01/28

Old age is often a sadness, not so much for the slowing and breaking down of the body’s machinery, but because how it brings invisibility to the aged. Because if there is one section of people who are ignored, as if they don’t exist, it is often the aging. As the world swirls around them, with all it’s passion, conflict, confusion, interaction, conversation, they are there, in the middle of the whirlpools - they are seen - and then unseen. Nobody seems to have time for the old. There they sit,

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05:29

She Held His Hand As He Drifted

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/01/21

The irrevocability of death is a given. Even as I can't ever reconcile to it, I sit in awe at its messy discipline. It tears worlds asunder, leaves pain in its wake, splits, often destroys, but moves unreconciled and unrelenting. Sometimes it gives a little air, some space - not a dawn of hope, but a sunbeam - as a vestige, but then again moves across the firmament to find its west - and waste. As we sit beside the hospital bed of a loved one, and pray, even if it’s for one more breath, deep

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05:37

No Revolution Is Complete Without A Ruined Soul

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/01/14

"I look back to see if I had left behind trails of my voice, as if that mattered more than if they had reached." I stay in Calcutta, and wherever I walk I know I do so on hallowed ground, unseen but still fallow with the blood of revolutionaries. It’s another matter that whilst some of it was a fight for freedom, some of it was misguided, for things which revolutionaries themselves lost sight of. The fight was for a cause - but often for the fight itself. But, foolish or brave, nobody could doubt

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05:56

The Comfort of Her Being

Uncut Poetry ·

2023/01/07

Life is a pean of reaffirmations. In its hurly-burly urgencies we often forget that what anchors us is often the humdrum boring comfort of relationships which let us be what we are. We can say anything knowing our love won’t be questioned, we can take people for granted without our intentions being put into a dock, we can let silences surround us knowing them to be as potent as a conversation. But to get to that state is to first embark on a journey. Relationships take time. They have to be

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05:30

Falling Into A New Year

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/12/31

A new year is just an artificial break for us to catch our breath, simmer down and look back to see the terrain we have travelled. There’s nothing good or bad - there are only things to either celebrate or to learn from. The wisest of us has done the stupidest of things - and are often better and happier for it. In thought, word or action we have all transgressed - we have sinned, plotted, cursed. The steam of our desires, obsessions, yearnings have found its outlet. We have some ashes left behind,

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