In the realms below, there exists a fearsome array of pits and ponds, each more dreadful than the last, serving as the abodes of great sinners. There is a pit of righteousness, and another filled with scalding liquor, as well as half-ponds whose very waters seethe with torment. Beneath the towering Śālmalī tree lies a pit bristling with sharp thorns, its circumference ringed with yet more thorns, each sharper than the last, enclosing the suffering souls within. Here, the sinners are pierced through by these thorns, their bodies wracked with pain as they share their fate with others of grievous misdeeds. Parched and desperate, they cry out for water, their throats dry and burning, their movements frantic—like beings tossed in boiling oil. Some pits are filled with poisonous streams, venom flowing from serpents as fearsome as Takṣaka, and the cries of the tormented rise ceaselessly from within. There are pits of boiling oil, so hot that even insects cannot survive within them. The air is filled with the sounds of distress, as the tormented move about, struck and driven by fierce messengers. One pit is filled with weapons, shrouded in darkness, terrifying to behold, echoing with unending wails. Some take the form of weapon-studded beds, as long as a great bow, where the damned are beaten by the messengers, their mouths parched, their lips and palates cracked and dry. Within these pits, the sinners are afflicted further: their teeth are sharp and misshapen, darkness surrounds them, and their cries and wails never cease as they are beaten again and again. The stench is overwhelming, the pits sometimes spanning half a krośa, their foulness compounded by pus and decay. Some are vast, measuring two vyūhas across, filled with icy water and crowded with noise-makers, where the messengers continue their relentless punishment. There are three pits swarming with flies and similar loathsome creatures. In others, the damned are bound hand and foot, their bodies bloodied and wounded as if from battle. One pit teems with scorpions as hard as thunderbolts, while three others are filled with arrows and similar instruments of pain. A round pit holds boiling, muddy water, its depths concealed in darkness. There is a half-pond filled with crocodiles lurking in the murky waters, and nearby, hundreds of millions of creatures feed on filth—excrement, urine, and phlegm—tormenting the sinners further. One pit is crowded with restless horses, their trampling adding to the agony. Elsewhere, a hundred bow-lengths of space are filled with thunderbolts, forever crowded with the condemned. There is a pond twice the usual size, its surface made of burning stone slabs. A supreme pit, razor-sharp stones forming its walls, stands ready for those who must endure its pain. Some pits are filled with foul-smelling saliva, where sinners are forced to consume it. A hundred bow-lengths are filled with boiling water, black as collyrium, and others are filled with powdered liquids, where the wailing never ceases, and the sinners are packed tightly together. There is a pit that spins endlessly, like a potter’s wheel, crooked and deep, measuring two vyūṭis across. Within, great sinners are devoured by aquatic creatures, and millions of deformed, terrifying tortoises fill the waters. Some pits are made from blazing clusters of flames, their fires roaring, the air thick with the cries of the suffering. Others are deep and filled with burning ashes, or with heaps of heated stones and clods of earth, the cries of the damned echoing throughout. Some are made entirely of darkness, deep and dreadful, while others hold water churned into waves, mixed with scalding alkalis. These, too, are vast and deep, filled with impenetrable darkness. In these places, beings move and wail, unable even to see one another through the gloom. And even beneath the tall tāla trees of the dreadful forest of sword-leaves, the agony continues, unrelenting and terrible—a testament to the consequences of great wrongdoing, and the inexorable justice that prevails in these nether worlds.