The Brahmi-Derived Writing Scripts: Tibetan and How to Read It

The Tibetan script. Credits: Wan Ariff

In a previous post about Devanagari, we have looked at a brief history of Brahmi-derived scripts and the two characteristics that define a writing script’s relation to the ancestral Brahmi writing script. As a recap, the two major design features that define a Brahmi-derived script are: (1) independent or initial vowel signs and (2) diacritic vowel indication in postconsonantal position. This is realised as the system of aksara and matra in Devanagari & Brahmi. In this post, we will be looking at a different Brahmi-derived writing script, the Tibetan writing script.

Thonmi Sambhota. Credits: WikiCommons.

The Tibetan writing system dates back to the 7th century of the Common Era as a syllabic script. It’s origin is not well attested, but it is widely assumed to be patterned on the Gupta script which is an offshoot of Brahmi and flourished with the great Gupta Empire until the 6th century of the Common Era. Another theory to the creation of the writing script is that it was invented by a minister called Thonmi Sambhota around the mid 7th century who had travelled to India and invented the script based off the Nagari script, a script that would eventually develop into the Devanagari writing script.

The Structure of the Tibetan Script

Yi ge. Credits: Wan Ariff

The Tibetan writing script is written from left to right. The basic functional unit of the script is the Yi ge, which is the equivalence of an aksara in Brahmi. Yi ge are basic consonant signs that each contain an inherent vowel a and there are 30 Yi ge in the Tibetan writing script. Diacritic markers are added to a Yi ge to change the value of the inherent vowel from an a to a different vowel. There are 4 main vowel diacritic markers and these are for I, u, e, and o. For example, the symbol for the voiceless velar consonant ‘k’ is pronounced as ‘ka’ when used independently. However, if we include the superscript for -I, the symbol is read as ‘ki’.

Vowels in Tibetan. Credits: Wan Ariff

Unlike other Brahmi derived syllabic script, the Tibetan writing script only has one independent vowel symbol which is for ‘a’. Hence, if one wishes to write a word that starts with a vowel other than ‘a’, one has to use the independent vowel symbol for ‘a’ and use it with another of the other vowel diacritic. For example, this is the symbol of what 'o' would look like.

The paucity of vowel letters makes for difficult reading as vowel signs take on multiple values. To exemplify this difficulty, Modern Tibetan has 12 distinct vowels and 2 tones in the language, but the Tibetan writing script only has five vowel signs that are distinguished while tones are not marked at all.

Vowel length. Credits: Wan Ariff

To compensate for the vowel deficiencies in the writing script, several innovations are introduced. The Yi ge for ‘h’ called the achung can be used as a diacritic marker to create a long vowel. For example, to make 'phaa', I can simply add the achung as a subscript.

Consonant Cluster. Credits: Wan Ariff

The Yi ge for ‘j’ can also combine as a diacritic to 7 other Yi ge to form conjunct consonant signs like ‘kya’ and ‘pya’. The Yi ge for ‘l’ can combine with 6 other Yi ge to form conjunct consonant signs like ‘’bla’ and ‘zla’. Like other Brahmi-derived scripts, the graphic syllable is a two-dimensional form to be interpreted as a whole instead of a linear string of consonants and vowels. 

In the Tibetan script, the internal structure of the ligature may no longer correspond to the phonetic interpretation. This is primarily due to the language behind the writing script changing without the writing script being reformed accordingly. A similar phenomenon can be found in French where written words often take on the form of how it was once pronounced before the language behind the script changes and in some English words such as knight where the ‘k’ used to be pronounced in Old English. Thus, in the Tibetan writing script, the prescript for ‘b’ and the postscript for ‘d’ are common vestigial remnants and are not pronounced when read.

Tsheg. Credits: Wan Ariff

A diacritic marker called tsheg, written as a superscript dot on the right shoulder of a Yi ge indicates the syllable closure. For example, ‘sa’ and ‘da’, combined with a tsheg on the ‘da’ symbol will form ‘sad’ which means ‘to awaken’ in Modern Tibetan. Two consecutive Yi ge without a tsheg to separate the symbols are to be interpreted as a consonant cluster. However, it is also possible to simply separate the two Yi ge in isolation to achieve the same result. This structural possibility would imply that technically, the Tibetan writing script can be structured more linearly compared to other Brahmi-derived scripts but as we can see from an analysis of the writing script, the functional unit of the writing script is still the graphic syllable.

Other non-phonetic markers. Credits: Wan Ariff

The Tibetan script also has a unique array of symbols and markers to represent extra phonetic elements. You may find the yig mgo that marks the beginning of a text, the sbrul shad that separates topic from sub-topics, the tshig-grub that marks the end of a section, the don-tshan that marks the end of a topic, the gter-tsheg that is used like a comma, and the gug rtags gyon & gyas that is used like a brackets. Furthermore, the Tibetan script also has a set of numeral symbols of their own that are different from the arabic numerals.

Basic Yi ge. Credit: Florian Columns

The Man Who Can See Constant {Chapter 4: What is Consciousness}

I know that many people would not believe me when I tell them that there is a man who flickers and can see Constant. It contradicts their senses and beliefs about the laws of this world. I have given some thought as to why people may choose not to believe some stories but then easily choose to believe others, and I think it is imperative that I explain it to you.

In my opinion, our beliefs are created by our consciousness. But what is Consciousness? Some people define consciousness as our ability to be aware of things. My belief is that consciousness is an inherent tool that humans possess that separates truth from falsehood. Another property of this tool is that it is social in nature; in order to validate whether a concept or object is true, you need another being to confirm its existence.

Let me explain, and I hope my explanation can be as enthusiastic and well-explained as The Flickering Man’s. We are all predisposed with sensory organs that had developed over thousands of years since the time our ancestors were primal apes in the grasslands of Africa. Eyes enable us to perceive a certain range of light. Ears enable us to perceive a certain range of sound waves. Skin allows us to perceive a certain range of temperature. Tongue allows us to perceive a certain range of taste. Nose allows us to perceive a certain range of smell. These are evolutionary developments that help the human self to receive inputs from the external environment. Our development is not unique to other life forms on this planet. In fact, some species of apes like the chimpanzees come very close in biology to humans that their sensory input could very well be similar if not better than us humans.

But sensory inputs without consciousness would render all these sensory inputs meaningless. Without the tool to determine if our sensory inputs is real and has value, we would be able to perceive, but not acknowledge or understand them. This inability would render non-humans to live by the natural cycles of the world, blindly driven by their own chemical hormones and changes in the external environment.

So now, let me try to explain how our consciousness tool work. I see a red ball lying on the sands of the beach. The ball belongs to the external environment. Red light waves bounced off the ball and is captured by the photoreceptors in my eyes. I think the ball is lying on the sands of the beach. I think the ball is red. I think gravity is keeping the ball lying motionless. I think that the ball is about ten metres away from me. This process is what humans and other organism that have similar sensory input organs experience an infinite number of times at every given second. However, without the ability or tool to comprehend the realness of the ball, these experiences never amount to something significant to me. Some people may argue and bring up the defence that animals too can comprehend their surroundings and make sense of them to manipulate their environment in their favour. I acknowledge that they are able to manipulate their environment, but I disagree in relating the similarity in how we comprehend compared to non-human beings comprehend things. Theirs is a system of acculturated motions and instincts - I do this, I get a response like this - but in humans, our comprehension is based on, first and foremost, determining the realness of something and then trial and testing more logic to eventually create an understanding.

Thus, the second part of this consciousness tool theory is the inherent truth-value tool - a social tool because you will need another being for it to work. In the example of the red ball, I can only know that the ball is real by verifying it with another person. A person can kick the ball to me. My assumptions on gravity and the weight of the ball is verified. A person can point to the ball. My assumptions that the ball exists and the distance of the ball to me is right. A person can ask for me to get 'the red ball’. My assumptions about the colour of the ball is right.

There is an interesting fact that blew my mind the other day and that is, we cannot actually know if another person perceive colours the same way we perceive colours. You see, photoreceptors in our eyes receive photons from light and these photoreceptors converts this input into electric signals that the brain interprets. However, research have shown that the number and type of photoreceptors vary from person to person and just like fingerprints, are actually unique from human to human. Thus, each person should be receiving inputs of colours differently from another person. My orange is not your orange! But there is one thing we can all agree and that is, my orange colour (the way I see it), is also your orange colour.

Thus, when I tell you that there exists a Man that Flickers and can see Constant, I dare not expect many to believe me because they themselves have not seen a man that can flicker or see Constant, nor verified this phenomenon with someone that has met such a Man. Perhaps you may have seen such a man in a sci-fi flick, and thus this plausibility is perhaps… plausibly real to you. For me, although by my definition of the consciousness tool the realness of this Man is if I can verify his existence with another person, I had verified his existence when I interacted with him whom I consider a conscious being. Thus, for me, forever, he exists. The Man Who Can See Constant.

The Man Who Can See Constant {Chapter 3: People With Compasses in Their Heads}

On Wednesday, I kind of expected to see The Flickering Man already seated at the same spot that I had left him the day before where I had my lunch. My expectation was partially right. The Flickering Man was still in the park but he was not seated. Rather, he was pacing back and forth between the fountain and the park bench where we had sat. So I made my way towards him and as soon as he saw me, I saw the widest grin that I had seen from a man in this city forming on his face.

“Hello there. I reached a little bit of a eureka moment this morning and I wish to share this fascinating discovery with you. Come, come, please take a seat,” The Flickering Man beckoned me to a seat.

I made my way round to a park bench and took a seat. After I was comfortably seated, I lifted the lids off my lunchbox and took out the ham and cheese sandwich which I had made for myself in the morning and pre-heated in my workplace’s pantry oven. I watched as The Flickering Man continued to pace back and forth. I saw that he still had on his grey Oxford shirt and khaki pants, but he had swapped out his boots for more normal dress shoes. With his shirt tucked out, he almost seemed like a typical city man on a weekend drink with his friends. The Flickering Man stopped pacing about a metre away from me and looked up to face me.

“Languages. Do you speak different languages?” The Flickering Man abruptly asked.

I can speak two languages… Although I am only really proficient in one.

“Do you think that you think differently, or feel different, when you speak in a different language?” The Flickering Man prompted me further.

I’m not sure… But I feel like I can better explain certain things in one language than another.

“What about directions? Can you tell where is North and where is South?” The Flickering Man probed me, in what appears to be a discontinuity from his previous line of questioning.

If you get me a compass, or if I observed the Sun, I suppose I can tell you the cardinal directions.

“But what if you close your eyes or are indoors. Can you still tell?”

No, of course not.

“But some people can.”

They do?

“Yes. People who speak Guugu Yimithirr in Northern Queensland in Australia.”

That is interesting.

“Indeed. They are not the only ones who can, however. People who speak Tzeltal in Southern Mexico, Marshallese from the Polynesian Marshall islands and many more across the globe. They all have the ability to tell you the cardinal directions, even if you were to blindfold them and spin them around more than 100 times!” The Flickering Man informed me.

Like having an internal compass.

“Exactly! Although… not as perfect as an actual compass.”

Why are you interested to find out about this peculiar ability of theirs?

The Flickering Man’s face turned a little serious.

“Your curiosity yesterday set me on a quest of discovering the limitedness of your beings’ perceptual faculties,” The Flickering Man explained. “I wanted to discover what exactly can you perceive and what can you not. I thought it could help me too since if I knew your being’s perceptual limits, I can better ease myself into your universe and try to be a part of it’s cycles. Thus, I had travelled the globe, met all of these amazing people and discovered this extraordinary discovery”.

You went to all of these places in one morning?

“Yes,” The Flickering Man casually replied, as if it is something un-extraordinary at all. “The people with compasses in their heads, they can perceive direction like you never could without the use of external tools. Do you know what does this mean?”

No, you tell me.

“This means that you have an internal device or system already embedded within your psyche - language - that could enable you to expand your own limited perceptual faculties,” The Flickering Man revealed excitedly.

But as you mentioned, isn’t an actual compass a lot more useful in increasing our perceptual abilities?

“Yes. A microscope, an X-Ray machine, infrared glasses or maybe even those ghost detection devices some ghost-hunters used. All these machines could, in many ways, expand one’s perceptual abilities more than a language probably ever could,” The Flickering Man agreed.

There was a pause in our conversation. During the short pause, The Flickering Man walked towards me and plopped himself down onto the seat beside me.

Is there a tool out there that could help us perceive everything?

“You mean to see Constant?”

Yes.

Another pause. The Flickering Man turned to face me and I could see now he was grinning from ear to ear again. He was practically beaming.

“There is. And it is more of a language than it is a tool,” The Flickering Man told me.

Really? What is it?

“Maths! Maths is the language of Constant. Understanding maths and using it to study the world will allow you to perceive Constant.”

I closed my lunch box. I had finished my meal. 

I know a little Maths. Why can’t I perceive Constant?

“You have to apply it to the world and see if the Maths’ integrity holds. If it holds, you would have discovered and perceived Constant,” The Flickering Man told me.

How about social constructs, like my relationship with people. Those seems pretty constant to me.

“Unfortunately, emotional attachment is perhaps one of the most un-constant-like thing in this world and belongs to the cycles of cause and effects that began when this world began. If the ones you have a relationship with abandoned you, scarred you - emotionally, physically, or mentally - you may lose your feelings of attachment for them. Some night say emotions are justna play of chemical hormones in our heads. And chemicals, they are a part of the natural cycles of this world, so it is not a Constant.”

What is a Constant then?

“You’ll have to observe the world a little deeper if you truly intend to perceive Constant. Look around you and look past the immeasurable cycles of this world. Constant is everywhere around you. It is in everything.”

I looked around the park. I looked at the trees, the leaves that had fallen onto the ground, the birds, the buildings. I hear the sound of a car horn in the distant and the sound of birds chirping. I see the thin sliver of sunlight that creeps through the oddly-shaped building.

Light. When there is light, like that sun ray over here, and I try to touch it or catch it with my bare hands, my hands will just pass right through it. But I know… I know that the light is always there and will always be there in that space. So is Light a Constant?

“A great observation. In observing and understanding Light, you can perceive a property or facet of Constant. One could describe Light as a symptom of Constant that humans are able to perceive. Did you know that Light travels at exactly 299 792 458 metres per second in a vacuum?”

I think I’ve read about it before.

“It is a peculiarity because it means that no matter where you are observing light from, be it you are travelling at a thousand kilometres per second or just standing still, light will always be observed to be travelling at the same speed. Is that not proof enough that Light is a symptom of a Constant universe out there? A universe or dimension that you are not yet able to perceive?” The Flickering Man asked me.

I stretched out my hands to touch the sliver of light in front of me. And I knew, I had closed my hands around a piece of Constant.

The Man Who Can See Constant {Chapter 2: The Blind Earthworm}

The next day as I walked to my afternoon spot on the park bench, I had a cup of instant noodles in my hand that I had bought from a 711 nearby. I saw The Flickering Man already seated on the spot I had left him the previous day. He no longer had his trench coat on, but instead, he wore a grey long-sleeved Oxford shirt. He did, however, still had on his khaki pants and heavy boots.

There had been a heavy tropical rainstorm the night before, thus the park had puddles of water everywhere and the air felt cooler and wet. Instead of taking the seat beside The Flickering Man, I decided to sit on the empty park bench just next to the one we were sitting on.

The Flickering Man was not flickering anymore and he had a rather calm expression on his face as he sat back enjoying the cool breeze that blows through the park. It seemed to me as if he had not noticed my presence at all. As soon as I was comfortably seated, I peeked under the aluminium cover of my cup noodles. The noodles were no longer hard and they had become that perfect slightly soft but also slightly crunchy texture that I enjoy. I broke my chopsticks and was about to dig in when I noticed The Flickering Man beckoning me towards him, somewhat excitedly.

I pointed to myself, as if to ask, “Me? You want me to go over to you?”

He nodded. So I got up with my cup noodles and went to sit beside him.

“I wish to apologise for not being an accommodating guest yesterday. I feared I could lose touch with this world of yours and just disappear. Thus, I was so focused in trying to make sure that I didn’t. I am usually not like that. It is not always the case that I found just the right condition to be able to interact with someone or something that has awareness such as yourself because most of the time, I live in the blind cycles of the universe,” The Flickering Man told me.

I asked him why he was flickering the day before.

“The flickering is simply me trying my best to represent myself in a way that I could be perceived by you and the other beings that have the same perceptual faculties such as yourself. I did not quite attune myself right yesterday, causing me to only appear to be flickering but I assure you that my existence is as real as you or anything else that you can perceive,” The Flickering Man explained, or tried to at least.

But humans can’t flicker.

“Well, I wasn’t flickering. Like I said, it is your perceptual faculty that makes me appear to be flickering. I am not some kind of light bug that have the ability to generate and create its own light, if that is what you are implying,” The Flickering Man pointed to me then back to himself.
Is there something wrong with my, um, perceptual faculty then?

“No, nothing of that sorts, but your perceptual faculty is limited. Everybody’s perception in this world is limited in some way or another. But if I may add on, it is probably more of a good thing that they are,” The Flickering Man assured me.

I didn’t quite understand what he meant that my perception was limited. As far as I know, I have flawless eyesight, and all my other senses are in excellent condition. Thus, in between slurping my noodles, I asked him how exactly are my perceptual abilities limited.

“How do I put it… Look there.”

The Flickering Man pointed towards the puddle at our feet. I looked at where he was pointing at. The puddle showed the reflection of the two of us sitting on the bench, the trees were swaying gently behind us, and the tall skyscrapers in the background loomed magnificently overhead. What was he trying to show?

Then, I saw it. Or rather, I saw something move. There was a small air bubble and an ever so tiny ripple near the middle of the puddle. It was an earthworm. In fact, the longer I observed the puddle, the more earthworms of varying sizes that I could spot swimming lazily in the puddle.

“The earthworms… Do you see them?” The Flickering Man asked me.

Yes.

“They can’t see you, can they?” The Flickering Man asked again.

No, they can’t. They are earthworms.

“Yes, earthworms are born without eyes. They were created that way. They never had the perceptual faculty to see or perceive light. The same goes for cave critters or many deep sea creatures that are also unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, not naturally imbued with eyes.”

But I have eyes. I am human.

“Do you think the earthworms know that they cannot see light?”

No, I suppose not.

“They don’t. They are blind to the entire world of light and colours. But are they missing out? Probably not. From their point of view, they have a universe of their own which they continue to perceive and interact through their limited senses and I’d like to think it is enough to keep them occupied. And to you, though you may think you have all the senses in the world, you don’t, and you probably aren’t feeling bogged down by that limitation anyway, are you?”

No, I suppose not.

That was the very first lesson that I had from The Flickering Man, and a very important one it was. There are really a lot of things in this world that I don’t know of, that maybe I should know, but I just didn’t. I was content, and oblivious, with my limited perceptual faculties. Just like that gently swimming earthworm.

Is there someone who can perceive everything then, or someone who can perceive more than what ordinary humans can?

The Flickering Man fell silent for a moment at my question. I took the opportunity to slurp on my cup noodles because they were getting colder by the second. I saw his eyes fell a little, or maybe I didn’t.

“Beings that can see Constant can perceive almost everything.”

Can you see Constant?

“Yes.”

I looked down at my cup noodles. It was almost finished.

The Man Who Can See Constant {Chapter 1: Meeting The Flickering Man}

My life changed the moment I met The Flickering Man. I called him that because using his name never quite seem right given the extraordinary nature of his existence.

I remember the day I met him for the first time. It was just a typical warm humid weekday afternoon in the city and I was having a satisfying lunch of overstuffed kebab in a park near my workplace.The park has a dull fountain in the middle, about five park benches surrounding the fountain, and a couple of trees lining behind the park benches. Tall towering skyscrapers loomed outside the park’s boundary, shrouding the park in perpetual shade.

I was sitting on one of the benches having my lunch while observing the pigeons shuffling on the paved floor when I felt a figure taking a seat right next to me. That day, there was only one other person in that park - an old man who appeared to be sleeping, sitting across us. Thus, it felt strange to have this person come sit right next to me when all the other park benches were unoccupied. My first thought was that it was a colleague from work that had found my afternoon shrine and decided to talk about some work. If it was, I think I would have studied the city map once more to locate the next park space to enjoy my lunch in peace. But it was not. It was The Flickering Man.

I stole a glance at the person from the corner of my eye. It was a man. He was wearing a dark blue trench coat, a pair of long khaki pants and a pair of heavy boots. A fairly odd attire for the tropical city that I live in where the temperature outside never falls below 25 degrees celsius. The man had both of his hands tightly gripped over his knees and a look of utmost concentration on his face as he stared at the pigeons ahead of us. 

Then, he flickered.

I blinked. Perhaps it is an optical illusion, so I thought. With light creeping past the cracks in the metallic buildings around us at weird angles and intensity, perhaps the light had played a trick in my eyes. 

But he flickered again.

When something noticeably strange occur, it is natural that we address the occurrence and then we react to it. The universe compels us to do so. Ignoring the strange event is simply detaching oneself from the natural cycle of this world, and in doing so we will most certainly create an even more abnormal chain reaction of events far greater than the original events. For example, when a blazing inferno erupted right in front of you out of nowhere, it is most certainly unnatural for you to continue walking into it. Someone watching you will feel compelled to scream or come rushing at you to pull you away and then they may get burnt, and when they get burnt, their family will be distraught, and when they are distraught, they will want to blame someone or get compensation from the insurance company. The insurance company will have a field day trying to paint the incident as an act of God just so they can escape having to compensate the victim. It will be an irony because technically, if you believe in a God, everything is an act of God. The point is, in your ignorance of the sudden change that had happened, you had induced a chain reaction of otherwise preventable, non-existent actions into being. It is best to just go with the flow.

Thus, I had turned to face The Flickering Man to confront this abnormal situation.

Good day to you. Is it just me, or are you flickering?

“Good day to you too! And yes! If that is what you perceive, then I most certainly am… I am trying not to, however, but it has been a while since I tried to tune myself to the cycles of a particular world and a particular moment and it definitely has been a while longer since I had to attempt to acculturate myself to the perceptual faculties of beings who are aware of the laws of their world such as yourself, but I usually get it right in the end!” The Flickering Man broke off from his staring of the pigeons and turned to explain to me. Or at least he tried to.

“Right then. I have got to get it right this time, shouldn’t I? There is just that specific narrow view of it that people can perceive. I certainly hope I do not appear like some horrendous scary all-terrifying demon,” The Flickering Man continued.

You don’t look like a demon.

“That’s a relief isn’t it? If I was, I’d expect you wouldn’t be sitting calmly beside me like you are now. You see, if I don’t get this right, I could appear like a static tree, or I could just disappear. Well… technically I won’t disappear, because I will still be here here. If that makes any sense to you,” The Flickering Man chuckled. “I can see you starting to look a little confused. Maybe I can try to explain it better some other day, but not today! If you don’t mind, I need to concentrate so that I can stop flickering!”

With that, The Flickering Man turned back to face the pigeons and continued staring intensely at them. The Flickering Man remained silent that day except with the occasional humming and grunting, and, of course, flickering.

My phone alarm beeped, indicating that my afternoon break was over. I wolfed down the remainder of my kebab, stood up, threw away the wrapper and as The Flickering Man was still busy, I decided to just leave him there. I thought my encounter with him would be the last time we met.

As it turns out, it wasn’t.