is mixed with other compounds, traditionally varying from culture to culture, depending on the use of kajal. Early Egyptians used this colour to protect themselves from the harsh sun. In India on the other hand, it was meant to cool the eyes, as the carbonblack was mixed with cooling agents like camphor.
With the endless expansion of culture, the forms of kajal have changed, even if carbon has not. From its first use in Egypt, it is now used recreationally, with very little practical intention. Today, the compound that forms the core of mass produced kajal (in most cases) is not carbon, but antimony. Another substance that is associated heavily with the product is galena, or lead sulphide, which has caused concern amongst several health organisations in countries like the US. But in countries like India, any fear of kajal seems silly because of its place in our culture. The kajal we use strongly colours the experiences it contributes to: the evil eye, for example. It is a stamp now, one we will notice only if we are paying careful attention; a stamp to remind us of the homes we grew up in, of what it means to be enterprising.
Kajal represents an important cultural artefact highlighting the different ways in which human beings have learnt to use science without learning it academically. Most women know which kinds of kajals and eyeliners are not good for them; they know that sometimes they might feel tired if they wear it too often. This product represents that space between the arts and the sciences that demands more exploration. It is a stamp of many kinds. Until I understand the different shades of this stamp, I look at the women around me and marvel at how effortlessly they use kajal in their everyday.