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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

07:20

Let Everything Else Be, Let It Be

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/08/06

The what-ifs of life are a perennial enigma, a source of continual fascination. What touches us does change us, what passes by always leaves it’s fragrance. The possibility of the butterfly effect - where everything changes at the flutter of a butterfly’s wings - and the intrigue of the sliding doors - what if the metro you were running for slides shut just when you got to it. Would your life be different if you’d reached a destination earlier? What if the delay caused made you to meet someone you

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06:17

When Breath Becomes Air

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/07/30

"I muse often of his being and his departure, missing the softness of his glance. He’d looked at me with happiness, as if my presence itself was good news." So much about life is to know about death. In its very concept lies life’s only immutable truth. As our days drift into countable numbers, we can either lean into the reality and wait, or fight the Dylanian battle of “not going gentle into the dark night”. But ever so often, there is no option. We become fortune’s arbitrary choice. We can

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04:46

One Morning, The Ants

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/07/23

I like people who do their own thing. The youngest of the young, the maddest of the mad, the dreamer in the group who gets ribbed, the one with the wildest theories, the one who always has the last laugh. I love the ultra sensitive. The one whose heart breaks when she inadvertently steps on a tiny monsoon snail, the one who gets lost on the way to familiar destinations, the one who picks only fallen flowers for prayer, the child who goes into the meadow on the way to school. These people are

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05:56

Favourite People (Who We Love And Leave)

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/07/16

We are what we are. But we are also all the people who have arrived, moved on, stayed in our lives. People whose very touch may feel like a hug or an abandonment , a benediction or a scare. People we’ve loved and fought with, people we’ve been secretive about, those we’ve cried for, those who’ve cried because of us. Just as relationships change, we are changeable too. We are what we are. But we are also the slipstream of our old loves, the undercurrent of those who hurt us, the flotsam of those

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06:36

Dancing In The Rains

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/07/09

"I can see the wind pick up it’s pace. The skies have turned moody again. Will it be a blizzard, she piped in her little voice holding tightly to my hand, lest I be blown away." In life we are both the flow and the stock. The flight and the roots. Logical and unhinged. Reasonable and petulant. Generous and anarchic. We are all this, we are all this together. Often in seriatim, more often overlapping. When a child quizzes us on the ironies of nature or the dualities of the universe, we realise

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06:04

And She Waited For My Call

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/07/02

"I have woken nights thinking of her and then turned into myself to dream other things. She’s in my mind but like shifting sands." 'Belonging' is a word which fills us up. It gives agency to us, a sense of community. We feel attached to kindred souls. It could be with people who we connect with because of a commonality of interests or service, in which case we would be driftwood, sailing where our proclivities take us. Or we could belong to a family, which gives our heart a hearth, and our

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04:58

Difficult Child

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/06/25

"And then I tell myself - he didn’t ask to be here." An obedient son is an oxymoron. Each one of us has rebelled in our own ways in our youth, and have generally not been worse for it (though who’s to say?!). But each story has its variations. And parents have their own tales to tell. And as one myself, I have my tales - and travails! A life is a gift in so many ways. And much more when you see the gifts which come unasked for. And the giving to one’s child has a tender inevitability to it,

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06:20

The Things We Become When We Leave

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/06/18

"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 senses see, what scares our heart. If our beings revel in the scars and bleed in the unexpected, we are already what we were

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05:12

An Onanist’s Guide to Loneliness

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/06/11

"Someone brought wild flowers home, and their pungent sweetness was a trauma and I walked naked in the house, till I threw them into a bin with three Hail Mary’s." Self-gratification is a lonely enterprise packed with people. It is our encounter with fantasies but starts with a conversation with our loneliness. We are often left alone, or are merely alone. While the world celebrates together, we are left with an aching need to connect. In reaching out, we reach in; in finding purpose we find

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04:56

A Garden of Departures

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/06/04

"The thorns sting, my palms bleed, the blood stains the acquiescent leaves, the morning breeze passes by, whispers - don’t hold on to anything so tight." I walk every morning on this walking path in the gated community I stay in. It’s an arboretum of colours and aromas. But much more than that, it is a passage of evanescence and disappearances. That gorgeous gladiola? Won’t be there the day after. The blazing gulmohur - here only for the summer. The yellow chandelier blossom - too fragile to even

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03:54

Waiting For a Storm

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/05/28

"It's a moment before. The stillness is of a zen monk, the heaviness of a misdemeanor unconfessed, the puddle is a pool with the sky in shame, the renegade vine mumbling Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité." A storm as as much an anticipation as it is an occurrence. And as in all things which we expect, which we wait for, there is endless trepidation, an asymmetric thudding, an irrational prescience, and an almost-joyous fear. We know it will change things, we know it will break the breakable and bend

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04:19

The Tragedy of Seeing Life as a Broken Enterprise

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/05/21

"Why do we complicate the nature of flowers, even as they sway flawlessly on branches unencumbered as they are with either our memories of storms or visions of a merciless autumn. Maybe, maybe, I'm not ignited enough to burn out visions of life which find fears where I should have found the air to soar." We see the world through the lens of our brokenness. Every time our mirror cracks and pieces of us lie at our feet, we scream into the elements. Much before we understand the potential of solace

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05:18

In The Drift We Will Find Our Certainties

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/05/14

"We walk under boughs heavy with fragrance, petals touching our cheeks with infinitesimal tenderness, and think back to how meaningless was what we’d said. In a universe of a million possibilities, we could be a certainty, but we suffered our uncertain inequities. We should have found tenderness like kittens venturing into the world - with fright and wonder and the ability to believe. Alas, we stopped at our conceptions of each other." They say “The only real battle in life is between

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04:15

Come When The Heat of Noon Has Still Not Dimmed

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/05/07

"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 with fashionable make-up on, often the only solace lies in the wonder and the dream. And particularly in love, anticipation is

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05:32

What Do I Leave Behind?

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/04/30

What do I leave behind? A folder named 'private poems' full of diatribes against life, a bunch of diaries full of tales of unfinished love, a half-eaten apple thrown carelessly into the bush, a spaniel with warm eyes who will wait for my morning pat. As I grow older, I often think of the legacy of me. Will I be remembered at all, or not; if yes, for what? Or is that even important, for I won’t be there either way - to see the inevitability of the human drama, and how we are but a traveler in

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04:15

The Complexity of Simple Lives

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/04/23

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 fail again. And then we find a rhythm and we lose it. Recriminations and regrets galore come into the equation, and we again

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04:57

Those Days of a Lost Summer

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/04/16

Youth is so wasted on the ones who carry it as a burden. The changes which wreck havoc to the body and heart are later looked back at as the sweetest damnation possible, irreplaceable but never ever lived through fully. We all know and understand the alchemy of a moment richly lived, but still let it pass us by ruthlessly, unthinkingly. Why do we consider time as a rich man’s wealth, when it can’t be hoarded or spent endlessly? In its strange and beautiful equalities, we realise it is the only

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05:41

The Complex Algorithms of Giving

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/04/09

People may love to give but they hate being asked to give. It’s almost as if there’s something accusatory about being asked to be generous - as if so far you weren’t, and here comes this person saying, gently but firmly, “why don’t you at least do it now?” It’s not that people can’t give - they can and they do. But there’s generally a calculation, a quick mental reconciliation of give-&-take, of subjective and objective returns, and a decision which is derivative - if the net result is a dopamine

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05:29

He Made Lasagna Before He Left

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/04/02

Heartbreak is often an ailment which is never prescribed for, but the one responsible for so much of what drives a person, often off a cliff, often into darknesses. In the stories of our fallen leaves lie traces of heady summers and barren winters. We are what we are, but so much of the blood we spill is because of the shrapnel of a broken heart’s pieces. In the morning of realizations lies the barrenness of what we could have been. But the deepest cut is when the person we love - who we thought

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05:38

Blood & Light in the War Zone

Uncut Poetry ·

2022/03/26

"The dirt-encrusted tanks rumbled in single file, the first driver, fatigued, suddenly braked, as he saw a man kneeling, his hands out to stop the tank, the driver looked down and wept, so did the man." Chesterton said “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” What do we gain from war? The answers are all to do with geopolitics, belief, commerce or fear. What do we lose from war? The answers are so many that they are lost

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