Mahamahopadhyaya Yogacharya Dr. Ashoke Kumar  Chatterjee’s book on poems named “Prana’s Words” has been published on January 2002. This anthology of poems by venerable Mahamahopadhyaya Yogacharya Dr. Ashoke Kumar Chatterjee is an invaluable treasure of Sanatana yoga science and discipline in poetic rhythm effecting a lucid flow of yogic thoughts.

The abstruse esotery of yoga-knowledge has been poetized in such a manner that humankind especially true soul-seekers can glean the subtle nuances of why one should revert to Sanatana yoga practice once again. The poems pull at one’s heart strings striking a chord of empathy amongst it’s readers.

Mahamahopadhyaya Yogacharya Dr. Ashoke Kumar Chatterjee has also penned poems on his own personal existence including his mother, his house “USHALOK” which he purchased with his hard-earned money, being well aware of it’s irony as it was wrenched away from him which caused him intense agony; about his pet cow “Phuli” in his native village; on his own vicissitudes in accordance with his own discipline. This anthology will definitely bring the reader whomsoever it may be to pause and ponder on the essential human ingredient — inherent love which has totally been obliterated today, and through this attain peace.

Thus love → lovefulness → peacefulness → peace in other words love, will foster an all-encompassing lovefulness generating an all-embracing peacefulness stirring universal peace. The translation has been difficult as it is in verse and ardent endeavours have been undertaken to present a meticulous rendition of the inherent ideas without sacrificing the inherent essence in the least.

To illustrate the poignancy of Prana (the infinite soul) a poem have been sampled here:

“I”

“Shutting My eyes
When my-self I see
My self being lost
Am struck with perplexity
When amidst the world I wander
It’s the world I see
When amidst the realm I enter
The world seems a falsity.

Then I heed the Anahata
See the Omkara
And a million moons thousand suns source of world’s beauty
Then I’m truly happy.

Finite me, restless me
Ceasing I see
The dot me, infinite me
The void I be.

Pondering about losing my self
When my self ceases
Then not being able to find my self
Shamchurn pervades.
I’m Shamachurn, Shamachurn I’m
There’s no differentiation
Hark ye mortals, barring
Bhagavan Shamachurn
There’s no salvation.”