Yak Butter Candles

Step into a Tibetan monastery, and the air hits you with a thick, unmistakable scent—earthy, rancid, smoky, and oddly rich. That’s yak butter candles at work. These traditional butter lamps, burning day and night as offerings, fill the temples with a dense aroma that clings to the ancient wooden beams and centuries-old murals. Yak butter, unlike cow’s butter, has a gamier, more pungent profile due to the yaks’ wild diet of alpine grasses and herbs. And it’s not always fresh—monks often use aged or even slightly fermented butter, deepening the smell. When burned, it releases a smoky, fatty scent that mingles with incense, the musk of old books, and the faint tang of mountain air sneaking through the cracks. For Tibetans, it’s the smell of devotion. For outsiders, it’s… an acquired experience.

It’s common to see devotees bringing their own yak butter to replenish the constantly burning lamps. It’s an act of merit-making, symbolising the offering of light to dispel darkness and ignorance. People arrive with metal flasks or plastic containers filled with butter, carefully topping up the small flickering lamps. Some butter is fresh, golden, and creamy; others bring older, slightly fermented batches, adding to the thick, distinctive scent that lingers in temple halls. The ritual is quiet and deliberate—monks or laypeople move from lamp to lamp, pouring just enough to keep the flames alive.