Thank You for the Light, A Turkic Loanword

 

Lcags-mag

The ink is hardly dry on the last blog and the holiday season is bearing down on us. Still, I’d like to add on one more before giving these loanwords a rest. This example does suit my already-described method of identifying words borrowed from Tibet’s northerly and western neighbors. The second syllable in this case is mag, a word with a possible resonance within the Tibetan language, but no meaning that could go together with a first-syllable lcags that looks like nothing so much as the ordinary Tibetan word for iron.*  

(*It would be a tedious exercise to go too much into it at this juncture. Still, the first possibility that presents itself is that mag could, theoretically, be a shortened version of mag-pa, meaning a matrilocal groom, or to put it another way, a son-in-law who is invited to join his bride’s household and, eventually, enjoy inheritance rights. If you can see how 'matrilocal groom of iron' makes sense all power to you. We’ll soon see that it is spelled rmag in some early manuscript testimonies, but this also takes us nowhere.)

I had long ago noticed this word listed in Berthold Laufer’s “Tibetan Loan-Words.” I couldn’t work up much enthusiasm for it. We know Laufer is here basing himself on entries in Jäschke’s dictionary (or in some cases Das’s dictionary, often itself based on Jäschke’s).* I had the feeling it wouldn’t carry a lot of weight if it just popped up once in a local market somewhere west of Western Tibet in the 19th century never to be used again. In truth I’m more inclined to deal with words of widespread and enduring currency that date from earlier times. 

(*It may be difficult to locate in Jäschke’s long entry, but look at p. 148, column 2, the 8th line from the bottom, where you can see the Turkish spelled out in Arabic script with the notice [“W.”] that it is a word belonging to Western Tibet.)

Even if I were unable to establish, as I will do in a moment, early usage for this word, we could still find it useful for its help in defending and refining a systematic method for detecting foreign words in Classical Tibetan. I would never claim the method is foolproof. An impressive degree of effectiveness is all I aim for. Now let’s look at some of that early evidence for this word lcags-mag, but first, a passage where it does not appear.

In answer to a question by a woman among his disciples at Tingri, Padampa (d. 1105?) uses a flint as an object lesson. He actually uses the word me-lcags, which would seem on the face of it to mean “fire [starting] iron,” but as I will try to show later on, its older and more original meaning must have been fire striker, and therefore the steel that strikes the flint. Still, in the minds of many, me-lcags seems to cover the entire set of fire-starting items including the pouch it comes in. The same is if anything more true of the word that will be our chief concern.

མ་ཇོ་ཆོས་གསལ་ན་རེ་ ། དམ་པ་ལགས་ ། ཆོས་ཐམས་ཅད་སྟོང་པ་ཉིད་ཡིན་སྐད་ན་  སྟོང་པ་ཉིད་ལ་འཁྲུལ་རྒྱུ་དང་ ། ་སྟོང་པ་ཉིད་གྲོལ་རྱུ་འོང་པ་ཙུག་ལགས་ཟེར་བས་ ། 

དམ་པའི་ཞལ་ནས་ ། དེ་འདུན་ཀྱིད་ཁྱོད་ཀྱི་མེ་ལྕགས་ཤོག་དང་གསུང་ནས་ ། དེ་ལ་མེ་བཏོན་ཅུང་ཟད་བསོས་ཏེ་ཤིར་བཅུག་ནས་ ། ལྟས་ངན་མེ་འདི་རྐྱེན་ལས་བྱུང་ནས་རྐྱེན་གྱིས་ཤི་ ། འདིའི་རྒྱུ་མཚན་ལ་རྗེས་གཅད་དུ་མ་བཏུབ་པ་ངོ་མཚར་ཆེ་ ། ་མེ་ལྕགས་གྲང་མོ་འདི་མེ་ཚན་མོའི་རྒྱུ་ཡིན་ཁོངས་མ་བཅུག་ ། ང་ཅག་གི་རྒྱ་གར་ན་འདི་འདྲ་བ་མྱེད་གསུངས་པས་ ། 

མོས་བརྡའ་དེའི་དོན་གོ་ནས་འཁྲུལ་པ་ཞིག་གོ་།།    །།

Majo Chösel asked, “If it is true, as they say, that all dharmas are Voidness, how is it that in Voidness causes of delusion and causes of liberation come about?” 

Padampa said, “Gendun Kyi, come bring your flint.” He lit a fire with the flint and tended it a bit, but it started to die out. “This poor ill-omened fire,” said Padampa, “It arose through conditions and it dies through conditions. It’s so amazing we cannot follow up on the reasons for this happening. We can’t comprehend how this cold flint could be cause for a warm fire. In our India we don’t have such things (as flints).” 

The woman understood the intentions behind Padampa’s symbolic mode of expression and her delusions dissolved. (Zhijé Collection, vol. 2, pp. 293-294.)

As I said, our word of interest isn’t actually used there, but Padampa could say the flint was unknown in India, and that may mean something. Also it is a beautiful example of how he made use of flints in his spiritual teachings. 

I do know of two usages of lcags-rmag (notice that silent ‘r’) in the Zhijé Collection. Both occur in works belonging to a relatively late level of the ZC, from the time of Tenné or roughly the last half of 12th century. These works do of course include commentaries on the words of Padampa, but also preserve the teachings Tenné received from his teacher Patsab:

Zhijé Collection, vol. 4, p. 109
(click to enlarge)

Number six: The aspiration prayer with interdependent conditions complete. It has been said, ‘You get fire from the lcags-rmag when the full set of causes and conditions are present.’ That means when the root cause, the dried bracken (ngur-mo), has ngar (flammability?); when the contributing cause, the hard stone (mkhregs-rdo, the flint), has corners; and when neither moisture nor mildew (btsa’) have entered in. In a similar manner, when all fifteen dharmas are present, all that you propose in the aspiration prayer comes to fruition.* 

(*The text continues listing all 15 of them. The OCR of the newly edited version of the text mistakenly corrects btsa' to rtswa, or grass, and speaks of five dharmas here rather than the correct fifteen. The meaning of btsa' here is not certain — it could also mean rust or spark — but I'm fairly certain it is the originally intended spelling.)

The second example occurs in the same volume, at p. 269, although it doesn't help us so much right now. What it does do is verify that the spelling used in this old manuscript source is indeed lcag[s]-rmag. In context it’s telling us that meditative awareness is applied to more and more expansive objects, contrasting the infant prince with the ruling king, the lunar crescent just after the new moon with the full moon, and the fire of the lcags-rmag with a forest fire.

And there is a third example of early usage, this time from a 13th-century work by a follower of Cutting teachings. The following passage comes from the 12-vol. new edition of Zhijé & Cutting teachings, vol. 9, p. no. unknown, but anyway found inside the text by Jamyang Gönpo (’Jam-dbyangs-mgon-po, b. 1208) entitled Bdud Gcod Zab-mo Don-gyi Nying-khu-las/ Zab-don-gyi Spyi-khrid Chen-mo. It seems this text has not been translated, although a related text, the root text of the same, has been published in English (see Harding in the reading list).

དཔེར་ན་མེ་ཤེལ་ལམ། དུར་ལང་ངམ། ལྕགས་མག་མེ་དང་ལྡན་པ་མེ་ནང་དུ་བཅུག་ན་ཕྱིས་མེ་མི་འབྱུང་བ་བཞིན་ནོ།། 

dper na me shel lam / dur lang ngam / lcags mag me dang ldan pa me nang du bcug na phyis me mi 'byung ba bzhin no // 

It is as if, for example, you were to take a fire glass, or an amber,* or a lcags-mag, objects that that possess fire, and place them into the fire. Later on no fire would come from them.  

(*I read sbur-long [also spelled spur-len], with meaning of amber in place of dur-lang. It is believed that heating the steel striker up to the point where it glows will seriously diminish its ability to make sparks.)

Among the ethnographic illustrations at the end of the
Zhang Yisun dictionary, this pouch is labelled 'ba'-khug. 
It looks very much like a tinder pouch,
but lacks the metal rim emerging from the bottom.
That’s why I believe it must be a coin purse or sewing kit.

Quite apart from these Zhijé works, we have at least two examples of the use of lcags-mag in Tanjur works, plus another commentarial work on one of the Tanjur works.  One of them, Maitreya’s Bhavasaṅkrāntiṭīkā, a very brief commentary on a work of Nāgārjuna, mentions rtsub-shing and lcags-mag as possible instruments of fire making. It is at least interesting for mentioning the rubbing stick (rtsub-shing) in the same breath with the lcags-mag. Its translator was Dawa Zhonnu, although knowing this doesn’t seem to be much help as he is not a well-known figure with a date.

The second Tanjur example is in Dharmottara’s Pramāṇaviniścayaṭīkā. It has a few difficult points, so I’ll just give you the Tibetan text to read for yourself (see below under Dharmottara) and leave it at that, although in general it agrees with Padampa’s symbolic usage. 

An entry from the Redhouse dictionary,
tashi means “stone”

‘What about the Turkish?’ you might be asking.

I know enough of the modern Anatolian variety to catch a word here and there in Turkish movies. So I wouldn’t expect you to believe me entirely, but the noun çakmak is the modern word for the lighter in use by smokers, campers and the like. It would be pronounced something very like chukmuk, and this is quite an exact way to represent the sound of the Tibetan version lcags-mag. In my crude understanding of the Turkish word, it is a verbal root çak with a kind of nominalizing (or infinitive forming?) suffix -mak added on. So the meaning of the entire word comes out meaning something like striker.

That means this shared word is necessarily a borrowing from a Turkic language int0 Tibetan rather than the other way around. We know this because the Tibetan preserves the word-final syllable -mag that only bears meaning in Turkic. 

There is another use of lcag, properly spelled without the final “s” in my opinion, in the Tibetan word for horse whip, which is rta-lcag. Reflecting for a moment that a whip is a striking instrument, it appears that the Tibetan word lcag was also borrowed from Turkish. Of course borrowings can enter into hybrid expressions, but there is no reason to think that is the case with lcag-mag. The whole word and not just part of it is borrowed.

Another thing that becomes more obvious just by thinking about it is that Tibetans in past centuries, knowing that the fire-striking apparatus they use includes a metal piece for striking the flint, were bound to misinterpret the syllable, properly spelled lcag, as the word for “iron,” lcags, and go on to spell it that way without much fear of contradiction. Sometimes the truth seems so obvious.

Of course there are a number of small issues surrounding all of this that require closer study and investigation. We have paid too little attention to phonological changes, local vocabulary variations, dialectology, Tibeto-Burman linguistic issues. Our emphasis has been the earliest known sources. So, as far as a conclusion is concerned, what I’ve written above is about as much as I intended to say. Still, in the spirit of the season I thought I ought to end with a few earnest platitudes and good wishes.

You may think studies of loanwords are a matter for philology of the most piddling sort, all about the words and low on substance and consequence. Basically a waste of time and a tedious one at that. But no, please, loanwords indicate human interactions (I almost said sociality). Their very existence nearly always indicates historical contact of some duration between peoples speaking different languages. This particular loanword is about even more. It indicates a tool, something useful for everyday life, an object shared across ethnic and linguistic boundaries. This tool, or set of tools, receives interesting symbolic meanings, even as a metaphor for interdependent origination, a most essential Buddhist idea if there ever was one. And a small word can indicate a larger range of influences, or at least encourage us to look into them more than we have been.

Nowadays in much of the world women keep all their combs, pens, money, cigarette lighters and other assorted items in their purses or backpacks, men in their pockets, briefcases or backpacks. This may seem to go without saying, but it was not always so. Many cultures have made use of what is sometimes known as a chatelaine. That means a chain or belt, likely hanging on their bodies in plain view, with all those useful items suspended from it. Tibetan nomads in particular were likely to have quite a few such items hanging on their waist belts ready for action, rather like modern factory workers’ tool belts. Beautified as they are by finely tooled metalwork inset with corals and turquoise, the Tibetan nomad’s ‘utility belt’ denies us the boundaries we’ve drawn between jewelry and useful items, exemplifying both.

So during this holiday season, whether you are switching on your Christmas tree lights or lighting the Hanukkah or Kwanzaa candles, or the strings of  butterlamps and electric lights all around the temple for Tsongkhapa’s anniversary day, or shooting off firecrackers for Silvester Day, etcetera, stop for a moment. Think of the Tibeto-Turkish chakmak and contemplate the things that join us together as human beings instead of what pulls us apart. Please hold this thought for more than a moment, then let it expand further and further. It’s so important for our future as a species, and not just our single species, but for all living and sentient beings.

§   §   §

Written resources

• Turkish & Mongolian Loanwords, posted on December 10, 2014.

• Two Odd Words that Ought to be Persian, posted on December 12, 2024.

Gerard Clauson, An Etymological Dictionary of Pre-Thirteenth-Century Turkish, Clarendon Press (Oxford 1972). See the entry for “çak-” on p. 405 if you require proof the word çakmak was used in Central Asian Turkic languages in early times.  See also p. 591 for an interesting symbolic usage in a Turkish Buddhist text from Turfan. It compares the interdependent workings of the fire-starting kit with the workings of sensory perception.

Dharmottara, Pramāṇaviniścaya-ṭīkā (Tshad-ma Rnam-par Nges-pa’i ’Grel-bshad).  Tôh. no. 4229.  Dergé Tanjur, Tshad-ma section vol. DZE, folios 1v.1-289r.7. Translated by Kashmir Paṇḍita Parahitabhadra (Gzhan-la-phan-pa-bzang-po) and [Rngog] Blo-ldan-shes-rab (1059-1109 CE) at Anupamapura (Grong-khyer Dpe-med), presumably the city by that name in Kashmir.

ས་བོན་གྱི་ཆ་རྣམས་འབྲེལ་པའི་ཕྱོགས་ནས་བཟུང་སྟེ་མེ་ཏོག་ལ་སོགས་པ་རྒྱུ་ཐ་དད་པ་ཡིན་ནོ། །དེ་བཞིན་དུ་མེ་རྡོའི་མེའི་སྐྱེ་གནས་ཀྱི་ཟུར་ལྕགས་མག་གིས་བཅག་པ་ན་ཆག་པའི་འཛེལ་མ་ལས་མེ་འབྱུང་བའི་རང་གི་སྐྱེ་གནས་ལྡོག་པ་ཡིན་ནོ། །མེ་སྐྱེ་བ་ན་བུད་ཤིང་གི་སྙིང་པོའི་ཆ་འགའ་ཞིག་ནི་མེའི་དངོས་པོར་འགྱུར་ལ། ...

sa bon gyi cha rnams 'brel pa'i phyogs nas bzung ste me tog la sogs pa rgyu tha dad pa yin no // de bzhin du me rdo'i me'i skye gnas kyi zur lcags mag gis bcag pa na chag pa'i 'dzel ma las me 'byung ba'i rang gi skye gnas ldog pa yin no // me skye ba na bud shing gi snying po'i cha 'ga' zhig ni me'i dngos por 'gyur la/ ...

Sarah Harding, tr., “Part 3. Heart Essence of Profound Meaning: The Quintessence of All Source Texts and Esoteric Instructions on Severance, the Perfection of Wisdom,” contained in: Chöd: The Sacred Teachings on Severance, compiled by Jamgön Kongtrul, Snow Lion (Boulder 2016). As Harding points out, this work of Jamyang Gönpo (b. 1208) may be one of the earliest commentarial texts on Chöd practice. This is a translation of the root text, and not of the much longer autocommentary where the word lcags-mag is found. The longer work has sometimes been mistakenly published as a work composed by Longchen Rabjampa (1308-1363/4), with a brief colophon identifying him as the author.

Arthur H. Hayward, Colonial Lighting: A New and Revised Edition, Little, Brown & Co. (Boston 1927), pp. 160-161. Here you can read a humorous story of a back-&-forth about chuck-mucks. The book is old enough it is freely downloadable at archive.org.

Henryk Jankowski, A Historical-Etymological Dictionary of Pre-Russian Habitation Names of the Crimea, Brill (Leiden 2006), pp. 390-391. Although it’s about the place name, this is one of the most useful discussions of the word “caqmaq” I’ve found so far.

Kun Chang, “Sino-Tibetan ‘Iron’: *Qhleks,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, vol. 92 (1972), pp. 436-446.

Berthold Laufer, “Historical Jottings on Amber in Asia,” American Anthropological Association Memoirs, vol. 1, no. 3 (1907), pp. 211-244, with thanks to Mike Walter for suggesting it:

The Sanskrit term tṛṇagrāhin (‘attracting grass’) proves the same for India, and in Persian and Arabic we have the word kahrubā with a similar meaning... (note 3 on p. 218).

The usual name for it, spos shel (pronounced pö-shel or pö-she; in Lepcha, po-she), means literally "performed crystal"...  Another, a literary, designation is sbur len, or sbur long, which appears simply as a literal translation from the Sanskrit tṛṇagrāhin (“attracting straw”).  (p. 231)

———, “Loan-Words in Tibetan,” contained in: Hartmut Walravens, ed., Sino-Tibetan Studies: Selected Papers on the Art, Folklore History, Linguistics and Prehistory of Sciences in China and Tibet, Aditya Prakashan (New Delhi 1987), vol. 2, pp. 483-643. I use an old photocopy of the original publication in the journal T'oung Pao, vol. 17 (1916), pp. 403-552 (for the Turkish loans, see pp. 474-483). The Turkish-donated Tibetan terms he discusses I’ll list here (for variant spellings, go to the source publication):  

yam-bu, chu-ba, bol-gar, lcags-mag, lcags-phra, top, tu-pag, pi-chag, u-lag, ar-gon.

 

click to enlarge

Maitreya, Bhavasaṅkrāntiṭīkā (Srid pa ’Pho-ba’i Ṭī-ka).  Tôh. no. 3841.  Dergé Tanjur, Dbu-ma vol. TSA, folios 151v.7-158r.7.  Translated by Paṇḍi-ta Zla-ba-gzhon-nu, or to make an educated guess at the Sanskrit, Paṇḍita Candrakumāra. This commentary on a work by Nāgārjuna contains the relevant passage at fol. 152 recto.  

དེ་ལྟར་མ་ཡིན་པ་འབྱུང་བས་ན་འབྱུང་མི་སྲིད། མེའི་ནང་དུ་ས་བོན་བཏབ་ན་སྐྱེ་མི་སྲིད། དངོས་པོ་མེད་པ་དེ་ལ་ནི། །སྐྱེ་བ་བླངས་པ་སྲིད་པ་བསྟན་པ་ནི། ཇི་ལྟར་ཆུ་དངས་པས་གང་བའི་མཚོ་ལ་ཟིམ་དང་པདྨ་སྐྱེས་པ་བཞིན་ནོ། །གཙུབ་ཤིང་དང་ལྕགས་མག་ལས་མེ་འབྱུང་བ་བཞིན་ནོ།

de ltar ma yin pa 'byung bas na 'byung mi srid / me'i nang du sa bon btab na skye mi srid / dngos po med pa de la ni // skye ba blangs pa srid pa bstan pa ni / ji ltar chu dngas pas gang ba'i mtsho la zim dang padma skyes pa bzhin no // gtsub shing dang lcags mag las me 'byung ba bzhin no //

Pratapaditya Pal et al., Tibet: Tradition & Change, The Albuquerque Museum (Albuquerque 1997), p. 188, has a photo of the single most-marvelous example of a “flint purse” I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Precious Deposits: Historical Relics of Tibet, Morning Glory Publishers (Beijing 2000), vol. 5, pp. 141-5.  Some remarkable examples are illustrated here, called by the odd name “fire sickles.” Note also the similar looking sewing kit on p. 145.

John Myrdhin Reynolds, The Oral Tradition from Zhang-zhung, Vajra Publications (Kathmandu 2005). On p. 89 is an interesting reference to the use of flint and steel for starting fires in a Bon biography of a master of the Zhangzhung Oral Transmission. I ought to trace the words used in the Tibetan source text, but haven’t yet.

William Woodville Rockhill, Notes on the Ethnology of Tibet Based on the Collections in the United States National Museum, an extract from Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution for the Year 1893, Government Printing Office (Washington 1895), pp. 665-747.  Plate 9 illustrates what he called “tinder and flint pouches,” and “strike-a-lights.”  The text on pp. 695 reads like this:

Another article, frequently most elaborately ornamented and worn by all Tibetans and hanging from the same chatelaine to which the needlecase is attached, is a tinder* and flint pouch on the lower edge of which is a steel. These are called mé-chag (written mé lchags) and are in common use all over Tibet, China, and Mongolia. The Chinese style of tinder pouch shown in Dr. Hooker's work (Himalayan Journals. II, p. 219) as existing in Sikkim, has been found by other travelers in Bhutan and even among the Abors and Mishmis. The Tibetan mé-chag is of two styles, the Dergé and Pomäd forms. The first is always decorated with silver bosses, coral, and turquoise beads, and is of either red cloth or leather (pl. 9, fig. 2). The Pomäd kind, as shown in the specimen in the Museum collection, is a beautiful piece of work in open gold and silver, in which are set 3 large beads, 2 of coral, and 1 of turquoise. The pouch is of red cloth, and is 5 1/2 inches long and 2 1/2 inches broad. An embroidered cloth case fits over it to protect it from the weather (pl. 9. fit. 4). In pl. 8, fig. 3, and another specimen not here illustrated are mé-chag of Mongol manufacture, and were probably made in eastern Mongolia among the Halhas, although the former is Tibetan in its style of decoration.”**  

(*Note: I’ve omitted Rockhill’s interesting footnote on tinder.  **Rockhill understood me-lcags to refer to the entire fire-starting kit, although modern Tibetan tends to call this me-cha. I believe moderns understand me-cha to be a reduced form of me-yi cha-lag, hence meaning fire items or fire tools, although it is also possible to read me-cha as meaning fire piece. Understanding me-lcags presents problems of its own, since its proper spelling is rather likely to be me-lcag, with meaning of fire striker, rather than me-lcags meaning fire iron. The use of syllable-final -s has been a problem with Tibetan spellers throughout history, even though it can completely change the meaning sometimes, like in rig and rigs, or rtog and rtogs. I won’t go further into that. What would be the point here?)

George Roerich et al., trs., Blue Annals, p. 922, for what would seem to be yet another example of Padampa’s symbolic usage of the tinder bag.  I checked the Tibetan and found that the word pouch (khug-ma) is indeed used, and nearby is the word me-cha (not me-lcag[s]), which in this context I believe could refer to the flint alone and not the tinder bag as a whole (but see the Tshul-khrims-blo-gros book). This wonderfully complex and obscure passage deserves closer study.

Tshul-khrims-blo-gros, ed., Bod-kyi Srol-rgyun Tha-snyad ris-’grel Ming-mdzod, Si-khron Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Chengdu 2016). Composed by a committee in Chengdu, this is in effect a visual dictionary of the material culture of traditional Tibetan nomads and farmers (including domestic animals), with 1,212 illustrations.

Its illustration (p. 167) of what it calls me-cha — that means the entire assemblage of fire-starting items including the pouch — comes with labels identifying 13 parts, but concentrating on the decorative aspects. The steel striker is called me-lcags. An interesting item attached to it yet hanging separately is called me-rgyug / me-’then. I’d like to know more about its use. It may be a tiny pouch with an accelerant of some kind. The items that are presumably inside the pouch are neither shown nor identified.

Wikipedia, “Chuckmuck.”  

If you don’t mind the language, the German Wiki has a shorter but more nicely done entry entitled “me-lcags.”

• Acknowledgement: Mike Walters helped me out a lot with this as well as the previous blog on Persian loanwords, and much of the discussion here took shape under his emailed instigations, suggestions on what to read, and so on. I’d like to dedicate this blog to Sangyela, he years ago asked me if I knew of any Turkish words in Tibetan.