Ashwini: Purple Kattam Kanjeevaram, Korvai Coral Border

They named me Ashwini, for the horsemen who ride before the dawn, always first, always swift. I am purple, checked fine as a promise kept in small pieces. Across me, horses run and elephants walk, speed and strength taking turns on the same canvas. My border was woven apart from me and joined by hand, purple giving way to coral at a seam that holds two colours without either losing itself. But it is my pallu where I keep my finest work. Two peacocks stand together there, mirrored, framed inside gold architecture that could belong to a temple, spires and arches worked entirely in zari. I do not rush to show this. I save it for the fall, the way a story saves its best line for the end.