Pranabkumar Chattopadhayay is one of the unique poets of the Bengali Literary arena. He was born at Kolkata in Bengali year 1361.He is a whole -hearted poet in Bengal. He has been writing on many Commercial and non-commercial magazines for long year. He is the famous Bengali poet of Seventies. He always believes on pure poems. He is very unique, self - centered, nobel hearted poet among the highlighted poets of Seventies. He has a unique style in writing creation which can make him one of the great poets of thousand years. He has made the combination of modernity and post modernity with the base creativity. The literary crefies have identified him as the modern format of the poets, Sudhindranath Dutta and Bishnu Dey. He is not on belief on the instant emotional feelings or ornamental uses of words or political based entertainments in poetry creation.
The whole world, science, Society, Philosophy, History, spiritualism is the Theme based matters of poetry creations. His poems are spread beyond the place and time barrigations. His hearty appeal for every life and material is acting as catalyst for his writting creation. His long poems based on continuous researches with traditional or non-traditional style can be claimed as one of the best of the thousand years of literacy. He has received much honour from people of Bangladesh at the time of tour with " Souhardya 70" .
His published poetry books are:
• Padma Koraker Buk Sisire Bhejeni.
• Achandik Mantramala.
• Shaktiman Suparman Naradrakader Deshe.
• Anathapada Sanghita.
.* Shankhalaga Rode
* Akshar Dhaner
* Melalohu Vumikhande
*
Some of his written dramas:
• Raktakta Angola.
• Ashimyudisher Rajatwa.
• Tin Hazar Tinsho Teatrish.
He is a singer and actor awards for many times in stage performances with different Drama groups.
The Mom
The text you just walked over,
some other looking around clearing mucus's from their noses
and some other clearing their internal shower effortlessly on it,
...
Slice land, more slices, piece father, grandfather
erect fence on them, more, more, more...
We want uniqueness, our own heaven, or hell.
Still want fences, break more, more
...
A tear has settled on the page in the guise of letters,
Mistaken for a picture, as it goes up for auction,
the crowd contemplates, If wrath descends,
if questions arise in the southern breeze,
...
That bird whistling in a strange classical way today
it's unknown to us, where is that vocal classical, storm like tan swargam?
Without mir, taan, gamak shrill scream of the untrained, untrained, unheard Anukomal Rishabh's soft vibration! Unknown to me, unknown and the sound of the whistle!
Where the thunder fell far away, the clouds are calling from the morning; Did you get an honorary delete?
...