DAAG

Years ago, I had a horse. To call him a possession would be inaccurate; he was closer to a companion, and closer still to a teacher. He carried a kind of quiet loyalty that asked for nothing in return, and in that way, he taught me more about strength and trust than most people ever have. When he was gone, he left behind something words struggle to hold — not absence, exactly, but a shape where he used to be.

I did not want that shape to close over. So I built something around it instead.

That is where DAAG began.

In Urdu, daag means mark — the kind left by something that mattered enough to stay. Not a wound, but a signature. The people, places, and creatures who leave the deepest impression on us rarely announce themselves as significant at the time. It is only afterward, in their absence, that we understand what they gave us. DAAG exists to honor that truth: that we are, each of us, made up of the marks left by those we've loved.

We chose leather because it keeps memory the way little else does. It does not resist time — it records it. Every crease, every softened edge, every shade the leather takes on with handling becomes particular to the person who carried it. No two pieces age alike, because no two lives do.