The forbidden fruit is always the most desired, even if it led to ruination.
Never had I thought that I would vouch for a statement so raw. But in the light of recent events I have come to realise that it was also very true.
While I was growing up, I always had this unfulfilled urge of knowing who my Mother is. The fact that no one in our town had a single clue (trust me, I have banged my head against many doors) was enough indication that I should have given up on the notion after the first shot of rejection.
My house was never the most home-y corner of the world for me. No two people who expressed love on an everyday basis, no responsible adult, no making pancakes in the morning, no pictures of the walls. Pictures were a foreign concept; there was exactly one frame that hung right be
