In our one-room house, Krishna Tagore, who was stuck in an alpin sticky calendar, looked like a father!
I would sometimes go up to the window, play Spiderman-Spiderman;
Dad would come back, look, laugh
He used to keep the floor down from the window.
Many nights, when I woke up, my forehead would get wet with my father's warm palms!
When my father had a fever. I was six!
One day, in the rain, Thakur was immersed in blue polythene on all sides!
Dad never came!
I continued to play Spiderman-Spiderman;
Did the life path of insects pull me?
Full femininity has come at a time, poverty remains!
I exceed the limit on office insurance.
Poisonous, insects, insects call to bed! Never sleep!
Back home! Let's take a bath.
The body washes down and wants to be Spiderman or Woman, saying it will come up the next day!
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