Drishti Rakhra_Kajal is a stamp_CC

Kajal is a stamp When kerosene oil burns, it leaves behind a black powder-y substance so soft that it yields quickly and smudges into your skin. This oily black residue is left behind on the diyas, which are usually burnt at festivals like Diwali. If you are not careful enough while handling the diyas, the residue will blacken your hands and you will leave fingerprints everywhere. At the end of functions, it is this blackness found in the little pots made of clay; the remnants of a celebration. This substance is called lamp black, and is one of the oldest black pigments discovered by human beings. Today, most of us are unfamiliar with this thing called lampblack or also, carbonblack, but it is the stamp of this pigment that has produced one of the fastest selling products of the makeup industry: kajal. The first time I wore kajal, I picked up Mummy’s Mac pencil and lined the inside of my eye with its colour. The stick of the kajal crumbled under the force of my hand as it shook. I saw my waterline for the first time that day; I looked closely at my eye and noticed its browns and yellows, lighter eyes when compared to the rest of my family. As I applied the kajal, I felt that I was becoming a new person, someone who was older than the small age of 10, more mature, adult, perhaps. A student I know, Angel, totters into my department everyday with bouncy enthusiasm. She wears clothes more hip than mine ever were. I notice energy in her shoulders, holding her up with the ferocity of a young woman who knows how to look after herself. Another student, A, speaks of Angel with excitement. “Ma’am, have you seen her eyes? She’s so beautiful.” Lines and lines of different coloured eyeliners decorate Angel’s eyes. Sometimes, she looks like a butterfly; other times, the grandest of shapes weave in and around her skin. “It’s important because it has a place in my identity; people think of me and think eyeliner too. They ask me to remove my glasses and show them what I did. I love it, and my friends love it, and that makes me love it more,” Angel tells me. There is a curious everydayness in the kajal that lines our eyes. Women around me wear it habitually, sometimes going to the extent of not leaving home until their eyes are thickly lined. On days that they don’t wear the kajal, their faces look only half complete. A colleague, Cynthia, tells me that she has decided to never use kajal in her life because it works like an addiction: once you start wearing it, it is impossible to stop. It gives people the space to comment. If you choose to suddenly stop wearing the kajal, people will look at you with worry and exclaim, “you look tired! Are you okay?” Over the last couple of centuries, families have made kajal at home. You’ll find spots of kajal dotting the necks of children — the evil eye to keep away bad wishes. It is used across dance forms and in the simplest of occasions. Kajal is now a stamp that takes on many forms, all starting with an element that has snuck into more compounds that we can count: carbon. Carbon black, the substance used in homemade kajal mostly consists of elemental carbon — the form of carbon that we find in graphite and diamond. This is the purest form of carbon to exist naturally. It works as the perfect pigment because of its stability; it doesn’t react with air or light, so when we do apply it to our eyes, we’re left with the same compound at the end of the day (even if it is mixed with the oils from our skin). To create viable kajal, carbonblack