T.S. Chandra Mouli: Good morning, sir. May I commence our conversation with a request to you to shed light on your early childhood and studies?

Mukunda Ramarao: Good morning. I was born in a family where none was educated. Hence there were neither books nor stories to be a way of life for me. My childhood was steeped in oral traditions with the spoken wisdom of elders. I pursued my schooling in Telugu medium, upto 4th class studied under a tree, with all other schoolmates of different classes under the same tree. Later, my formal education took place in a school with so many classes in different rooms. The medium was  English but had one subject in Telugu upto class eight. After schooling my college education was in science subjects upto graduation. Post graduation was in Pure mathematics and Pre research DIIT was in Applied mathematics. PGDCS a computer diploma from Central university Hyderabad. 

T.S.C.M: How did your socio-cultural back ground shape your habits and hobbies?

M.R: Growing up in a culturally vibrant environment, I learned to see life through many lenses — religious, philosophical, artistic. My habits were shaped by the rhythms of rural life and the reflections of urban learning. I read voraciously, observed people, and cultivated silence — for silence is often the womb of poetry. Listening became a habit; reading, a passion; and writing, a necessity.

T.S.C.M: Could you mention details of your employment?

M.R: I was a teacher after my graduation and after post-graduation. After that I served in Railway service for many years, which gave me a glimpse into the diversity of our society. It was a disciplined life, but one that allowed me to witness the struggles, dreams, and voices of different  people with different languages and religions — material that would later seep into my poems and translations.

T.S.C.M: Did you find professional environment congenial to your creative aspirations?

M.R: Not entirely. The bureaucratic world often values routine over reflection. Yet, I learned to find poetry even in monotony. In a stray word, a face in the crowd, a sudden silence could spark a line. Creativity, after all, survives not because of the environment but despite it.

T.S.C.M: How did you start your creative work?

M.R: I began by writing small verses in Telugu, inspired by nature and the moods of the self. Gradually, exposure to English and world literature broadened my perspective. The urge to express the inexpressible drove me. Poetry became my inner language, and translation — my bridge to other worlds.

T.S.C.M: How many languages you know sir? How did your competence in several languages help you?

M.R: I am fluent in Telugu, English, Hindi, and Bengali, and can read Sanskrit. Each language opens a different sky. Telugu gives me intimacy and emotion; English, structure and exposure; Hindi, Bengali and Sanskrit, philosophy and music. Knowing several languages allows me to travel across cultures, to hear echoes and harmonies others might miss. In translation, it is a blessing — I can sense the spirit beyond the word and the world.

T.S.C.M: What were the early influences that shaped your craft?

M.R: My earliest influences were the Sufi poets, the moral tales of childhood, and the lyrical cadences of Telugu classical poetry. Later, poets like Tagore, Eliot, Neruda, and Sri Sri, Tilak guided me. Every poem I read became a mentor. Life itself — with its joy, pain, and wonder — has been my greatest teacher.

T.S.C.M: How does a poem flow from your quill?

M.R: A poem begins as a whisper — a feeling seeking form. Sometimes a single image or rhythm strikes me, and words begin to dance around it. I let them breathe before shaping them. A poem is not written; it is revealed — slowly, gently, as dawn unveils the horizon.

T.S.C.M: How do you manage to carve a path as a writer exclusively for yourself? 

M.R: I have never chased trends. I write what moves me, not what is fashionable. Authenticity is my compass. Every poet must find his own rhythm, his own silence. I walk my path knowing that true art may not always be popular, but it will endure.

T.S.C.M: It is said you do not follow trending mode of creative writers generally. Why, sir?

M.R: Because I believe poetry must spring from truth, not imitation. Trends pass like seasons; truth stays. I honour tradition, but I am not bound by it. I write in the language of my soul, not in the dialect of fashion.

T.S.C.M: How and when did you start translation work? What were the triggers?

M.R: Translation began as an act of love, while I was in Newyork, with the assistance of Newyorkl state library. I wanted to share voices that spoke to me deeply but were unheard in my language. The first impulse was compassion — to let others breathe in the fragrance of another culture. Later, it became a discipline, an art.

T.S.C.M: Do you translate your own work? 

M.R: Not yet, though I wanted to do it. As Self-translation is a double-edged sword. One knows the spirit intimately, but one may also become indulgent. Still, it allows me to reshape my poems for another tongue, another audience, while retaining their soul.

T.S.C.M: Could you throw light on your translation work?

M.R: I believe translation is not imitation; it is re-creation. One must breathe life into a poem again, in a new language, without losing its heartbeat, hence I have refrained from doing it.

T.S.C.M: Do you feel the poet in you influences the translator that you are or as a translator your creative craft has enabled you perform better?

M.R: Both. The poet in me gives sensitivity to tone, image, and rhythm. The translator in me teaches humility — to listen, to serve the original text. They are not rivals but respectable companions. 

T.S.C.M: How did you start critical evaluation of a work of art? What are diverse themes or genres that you prefer to talk about?

M.R: Criticism should come naturally, as an extension of reading deeply. I write about poetry, translation, cultural identity, and exile — especially voices from the margins. I believe criticism should not judge but illuminate, revealing the inner architecture of art.

T.S.C.M: How many books have you written so far sir?

MR: I have published nine collections of poetry, 19 books of translation, and critical essays. Each book is a milestone in my inner journey- some born of silence, others of dialogue with world voices.
T.S.C.M: Are there any role models for you as a poet? How their work has impacted you?

M.R: Many — from Sri Sri’s social consciousness to Tagore’s mysticism, from Eliot’s introspection to Neruda’s sensuality. But above all, I revere anonymous poets — those whose names history forgets but whose songs linger in air and ritual.

T.S.C.M: What is your prognosis about creative writing in general and poetry in particular, with regard to Telugu literary firmament?

M.R: Telugu poetry is undergoing transformation — voices are diversifying, themes expanding. Yet, amidst this noise, there is also silence — the need for depth. I believe the future belongs to poets who balance rootedness with universality, tradition with innovation.

T.S.C.M: What is your advice for budding poets, sir?

M.R: Read widely, live deeply, write honestly. Do not rush to publish — first learn to listen. A poem is not born in a hurry; it is distilled through patience. Above all, be true to your voice. The world needs authenticity more than applause.

T.S.C.M: Thank you very much for sparing your time and sharing your experience and views as a poet, translator and literary critic. It helps us know about you better as a versatile writer. So kind of you sir! 

M.R: Thank you, Chandra Mouli garu. It was a joy to share my journey. Every question was an invitation to introspection. I believe poetry is not just written — it is lived.