Sameer Gudhate presents the Book Review of Untamed by Sandhya Mridul
- Sameer Gudhate
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read

Untamed by Sandhya Mridul isn't just a book—it’s a whisper to your soul, a mirror held up to your innermost emotions. I picked it up thinking I’d read “a few pages before bed,” and suddenly, there I was—sitting at 2 a.m., heart full, eyes misty, feeling like I had just met a piece of myself between those pages.
We’ve all seen Sandhya Mridul light up the screen with her performances—gritty, real, and unapologetically bold. But Untamed is a completely different spotlight. It’s her soul, bare and bruised, yet beaming with hope. A debut book that doesn’t shy away from vulnerability, it walks the tightrope between pain and poetry with a kind of grace that only someone who has lived every word can pull off.
And here’s what I loved right from the start: this isn’t conventional poetry. It’s raw, unfiltered, and deeply conversational. It feels like she’s sitting across from you, chai in hand, letting you peek into the pages of her heart.
There's no plot here in the traditional sense. Untamed isn’t about a beginning, middle, or end—it’s a journey. One of love, grief, healing, and the slow but certain art of coming back to oneself. Each piece, while standalone, connects with the next in a fluid rhythm. It’s like waves on the shore—sometimes crashing, sometimes gentle, but always moving.
The beauty lies in the honesty. Sandhya admits to the lies she told herself, the pain she tried to numb, and the strength she discovered when she stopped pretending. It’s a story of a woman reclaiming her narrative—not by rewriting it, but by owning it.
There’s a quiet intensity in her writing. It’s not polished in the traditional, literary sense—and that’s exactly why it works. Her words don’t need to impress; they need to be felt. And they are. The short verses, the pauses, the unfinished thoughts—they mimic how real emotions unfold. She doesn’t just write about vulnerability, she writes in it.
Every piece is titled, which gives a beautiful frame to each emotion. It’s like opening little emotional windows—some fogged with tears, others wide open to light.
Here’s the thing: even though this is her journey, you’ll find yourself in it. I did. Whether it’s the ache of loss, the thrill of love, or the quiet strength that comes from solitude, there’s something deeply universal here. And if you’ve ever battled your own head and heart, you’ll know exactly what she means when she says “there are no lies in this book—only the ones my head told my heart.”
The structure is loose, free-flowing, and intentionally so. It’s untamed, just like the title promises. There’s no fixed narrative arc, but there’s a definite emotional crescendo. You don’t realize it, but as you flip through the pages, you’re also slowly peeling off your own emotional layers.
This book is all heart. It speaks of heartbreak and hope, of grieving fully and growing quietly. It’s about sitting in the storm without needing to escape it. It tells us—sometimes the most radical thing we can do is feel everything. Fully. Honestly. Even when it’s inconvenient.
Some pieces genuinely shook me. I had to pause, close the Kindle, and just breathe. Others felt like a friend gently patting my back, saying, “I know.” And then there were those rare moments when I felt seen—like she had written those lines just for me.
Authenticity. That’s the book’s biggest win. It doesn’t try to be clever or pretty—it just is. And that’s what makes it beautiful. The relatability, the intimacy, and the courage to not wrap things up in neat bows? Absolutely refreshing.
If you’re looking for traditional structure or literary finesse, this might not hit the mark for you. But honestly? That’s not what this book is trying to do. And in its wild, imperfect way, it actually does more.
I came for poetry and left with a friend. Sandhya’s voice feels like a warm hug on a heavy day. There’s something incredibly comforting in knowing that someone else has felt what you’ve felt—and has found a way to turn it into light.
Untamed isn’t just a book—it’s an experience. One that invites you to pause, to reflect, and to feel… maybe more deeply than you have in a while. If you’re navigating the messy, beautiful terrain of emotions, Sandhya Mridul’s words might just be the companion you need.
Highly recommended. And a personal thank you to Sandhya—for not just sharing her heart, but making space for ours too.
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