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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

4:47

A Love Letter from a Frustrated Husband to an...

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/12/20

Darling, make no mistake.There's so much of you I crave and care for. My morning gratitude wishes are of you, whatever nightmare you might have put me through a sweaty night. I've learnt the hard way that married life is less a game of naughts and crosses, and more of remembrances and erasures. Because the burden of memory in a marriage is Krishna's Butterball rock in Mahabalipura, balancing on a point. But, gosh, how much you can cry. Tears are your inbuilt bazookas. And your hysteria is no

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4:20

Let There Be Fewer Stories This Winter

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/12/13

Summer makes me light and present. The monsoon pulls me into its flood of feelings. Autumn turns me inward—part stranger, part seeker.But winter is where I truly awaken. In its drifting mists and sudden shafts of light, old emotions unseal themselves; warmth rises gently from the cold. My mind clears, my questions deepen, and I feel myself walking through unseen passages within. I’m reminded that we are rarely as flawed as we imagine, our circumstances rarely as dire as our stories insist. The

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5:29

Going Home

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/12/06

We are such fools, we are, knowing all about inevitabilities, but never (ever) prepared for them. We will lose loved ones, they will die, some in their prime, some before they would have discovered their worth, some even as they burned themselves on both ends.Such is the life of denial we live. Refusing to acknowledge what we know as truth in the deepest fibre of our beings. And when the end does come, as of course it will, we are emotionally, spiritually, illogically, found wanting, found

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5:18

When We Know Love as Found

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/11/29

Love is as you define it. Often a search. Often a precipice. Often an infraction. Often an acceptance. More often then not, a home we finally settle in, a comfort, a place to step out from the edginess of search to build stories of reconciliations.But life has its outtakes and inputs, twists and twirls, bells and whistles, which do not allow love to rest. Because it does not want one basic thing to be forgotten. That love is an effort. Love is a daily ritual. You fall in love again and again with

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4:11

The Valentine Shore

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/11/22

Everyone comes in our lives for a reason. The bad ones, the good ones. It is all revealed in time. Sometimes as a slow-burning mystery, sometimes as a spark in a deep night, sometimes in quiet secret ways even we fail to understand, until we get to look back and retrospect.So many of our relationships tether on the edge, so many drift to seeming nothingness, so many are treacherous like the Annapurna slope, so many solid as resolve. But the true charm of being with someone is the continuous

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5:56

A Primer on How to Deal With (Being) Hurt

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/11/15

So much of what we are is the amalgam of hurts we carry deep inside. As past life regression reveals, sometimes the hurt runs deep, bringing forward traces of what's left unresolved from the ages before.However accomplished or complete we might think ourselves to be, we roam the world raw, susceptible to the random snide, reacting to the perceived insult, ultra-sensitive to derision. And we react. And commence an unending cycle of soul terrorism - attack, inflame, die. On the agency of words

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4:34

May Your Journey Be Gentle & Safe (as I see a...

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/11/08

It is sobering to realize how insignificant we are in this universe, how much of a speck. And how much the grandeur of nature - a spectacular lunar eclipse, the sun shining on a quiet sea, a moonlit desert - shows us both the incredible world we live in - as also bring us back to the joy of minutiae, if only we have the eyes and time for it.And it brings us back to the gorgeous littleness of our lives. How the highest joys are often reserved for the smallest of things. To have someone in our

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3:35

Moving Tapestry of My Awe

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/11/06

I am so often in awe. Of another being’s endurance or grace — perhaps a lover, a river, the sea, or even time itself. I want to learn how they do it -from borrowing calm, to letting life flow through, to finally resting in stillness and reverence. To see life as a moving tapestry of happenstances, tragedies or ecstasy; living through them, but not allowing any of these to change the essential core of what they are, why they are. They seem to allow both beauty and pain to go through them -

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3:35

Moving Tapestry of Awe

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/11/01

I am so often in awe.Of another being’s endurance or grace — perhaps a lover, a river, the sea, or even time itself. I want to learn how they do it -from borrowing calm, to letting life flow through, to finally resting in stillness and reverence. To see life as a moving tapestry of happenstances, tragedies or esctasy; living through them, but not allowing any of these to change the essential core of what they are, why they are. They seem to allow both beauty and pain to go through them -

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5:27

Are All Lovers Pilgrims?

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/10/25

We give up on those we profess to love too soon.There is something primordial, something gossamer, to do with the body, to do with first inchoate impressions, which attracts us to one another in the first place. Because relationships often begin in shallow waters. As things start to become serious, the couple traverses depths. It's not easy. And unexpected. Murky, weed-laden, algae-full. The clear eyes and the pellucid surfaces of early days is suddenly overladen with things about each other we

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6:39

Replay - Letting Go (a childhood song)

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/10/18

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,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

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7:53

Finding Home in Places We've Left Behind

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/10/11

Revisiting a place where one has one's roots is tricky business.On the one hand, there is enough familiarity - relatives, school chums as unrecognisable adults, hazy lines of playgrounds, peacocks, changing views from rooftops, familiar cracks now deeper - and on the other, one enters the familiar as a complete stranger. The air is lighter, the light is sharper, the language is alien in spite of familiar intonations, and one sits on judgement. And a sense of superiority emerges - as if the place

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5:00

When it Rains, Love Slips

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/10/04

Love is fragile but can withstand blows; it is easily dismantled but can be unrelenting in its persistence. It can disintegrate in a word, but can stand unbreakable after the worst of happenstances.Love is both ordinary and a maverick. It can breathe as if it is taking its last inhalation or linger as if infinity is a friend. There is lassitude, there is energy, there is determination, there is presumption. Of course we know when we are in love and when we are pretending: when we carry wounds

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5:13

Lovers Who Synchronise (& those who don't)

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/09/27

Pondering as I do on relationships, the beauty and brokenness of them, I continuously marvel, nay wonder, at both their tenacity and tenuousness. And how, at the bottom of them all, they all exist on the basis of a single decision: to be together.However old, however strong, whatever the optics, the couple is together only because they want to be. Years might slip by, a thousand experiences might be shared treasure, but a single call, a sentence, a simple "I want to leave you", and a bond

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5:04

Just Be Air

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/09/20

We don't always realize, how much of our lives belongs to others, is determined by others. Their concerns, their insistences, their jealousies, their phobias, their happinesses, their frustrations. Their blank stares, their under-the-breath comments, their lack-of-joy. Their obsessions, their obsessive need to control. Their potential reactions, their prejudices, their silences.In time, what we do, indeed, what we become, is a factor of what someone else might want us to be. Covering the entirety

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5:14

Waiting

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/09/13

People drift.Love leaves home. Life becomes a refugee. We become migrants in our own cities. What brought two people together often becomes the reason which tears them apart. Poetry is often a glue, often it it only a record-keeper. Often it is a bystander, checking out its own pulse. And the two who loved how poetry defined them, find the suburbs of love - where they finally have to settle - to be boring brick-laden homestays. So much of love - as of life - are the boring intermezzos. When

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4:43

So Tonight That I Might See You

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/09/06

Relationships often run their course. But we don't. And I'm both heartbroken and frustrated at the phenomenon. As I try to decipher the possibility of a rich life, now existing as an afterlife. It's not a question of toxicity setting in, but of a river in full spate disappearing into an arid empty bed. And I ask - why do we hold onto relationships which subtract us as human beings? Because what doesn't lift us, diminishes us; what doesn't inspire us, enslaves us; what doesn't make us see the

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02:16

The Morning After

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/08/30

What did my palms come to knowwhat did my skin feel what did my eyes own as I transversed universes as I clasped light conscious we are captive of time and age held together in ways undefinable on the wings of unsaid hope, possibilities held as a moment's gift who are we if not fools holding love as a talisman a bushel of kisses as proof that when all fails there's a touch which knew as we other our other worlds as we hold love-bites as we withhold wounds as we travel our

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04:57

Finding Myself Beyond You

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/08/23

Someone said something very telling the other day. In a court of law, the criminal knows he's the one, the accuser knows the criminal is the one. So in the scheme of things, it's actually only the judge who is being judged.I was reminded of this when I realized that our relationships are intrinsically not of the other, but about us - the person in front of us is a mirror in which we can see ourselves. A friend, spouse, lover, stranger, colleague - they will always be who they are. We can come

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05:58

I Heard The Other Day

Uncut Poetry ·

2025/08/16

So much of our time is spent in yearning.A slow despair of knowing life is slipping by, and of somehow not being able to wrap our arms around its fullness. Of, time and again, sinking our fingers into something we see as compressible but finding mere nothingness. Of having touched love, but having lost it before experiencing its infinite lushness or its prickly pleasures. Because through love, we know how we are given this limited-edition life but often just lose the opportunity of making

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