Anaar: Deep Maroon Kanjeevaram with Korvai Gap Border

I am Anaar, for the fruit that holds its colour inside hundreds of small seeds, each one a little different, all of them the same deep red. I wear that same restraint, maroon the way old wood is maroon, earned rather than applied. Small gold motifs rest quietly across me, unhurried, spaced the way memory spaces its own moments, never crowding, never in a hurry to be noticed. At my border I split myself in two lines of peacocks separated by a clear pause, the way a good frame holds two different thoughts all at once. My pallu is where I stop being careful, a garden gridded into gold. Look at me once, and you can never let go, much like the fruit I am named after.