Dear Diary, The strange thing about life is that nothing is permanent. Even those whom you think would stand by you no matter what, choose to betray you. They say I killed him. They say I have his blood on my hands. They say I plunged a knife 23 times into his heart. But I don't blame them. Every piece of evidence is against me. The fingerprints on the knife are mine. So then why can't I remember having done it? Yours, Maya Jaisingh - Patient #236, Mumbai Psychiatric Hospital