Again and again, she instructed him, making him listen to her words without respite. This was not an isolated event, for among thousands of the wise, such women are born repeatedly, returning to play their role in the cycle of existence. Yet, even as she admonished him, her voice was harsh and unrelenting: “Why do you cry out again and again, O wretch, suffering so many torments at the hands of low-born women? Tenfold, O sinner, I shall drag you back, again and again. You will not be released by me, O sinner—where do you think you are going, truly deluded one? Wherever you go, O sinner, I will not abandon you, adulterer.” With the persistence of cowherds prodding cattle with sticks, these women drove him onward, again and again. As he was driven, he was beset by other beasts of prey—devoured by dogs and by crows, his suffering compounded at every step. In his path appeared a blazing fire, flames leaping on every side, like a forest consumed by conflagration. Burned and scorched, he and others like him would seek brief refuge under trees, only to find no respite. There, in that dreadful place, some souls were cut, some were burned, and others were killed in every conceivable way. At the entrance to the terrible Asitālavanā, the great chariot-warriors stood guard, their voices booming: “O you of wicked conduct, destroyers of the bridge of righteousness—” Their words rang with accusation and doom. Those afflicted by such constant torments would be reborn into greater misery. The Asitālavanā itself was filled with horrors: birds with iron beaks, tigers of terrible ferocity, and countless enraged, violent beings who devoured people without mercy. The suffering within that dread forest was immense, O Brāhmaṇas, for there, some had their limbs shattered by sword-leaves, others were impaled upon cruel spikes. All around were ponds, tanks, lakes, and rivers, but these waters were not for comfort or cleansing—they were filled with putrid flesh, writhing worms, and filth. Thousands of sinners suffered in the midst of this corruption, their agony unending. From above, showers of bones and stones fell, and clouds of blood darkened the sky. Among those running and swimming in this hellish landscape, cries rang out: “Alas, I am slain!” Their wailing and lamentation filled all the directions, echoing without end. Some were bound with thick cords, others tied up in myriad ways, each suffering his own punishment. Elsewhere, there were sights so terrifying that even to recall them would chill the heart of any man. Thus, concludes the chapter in the Śrī Varāha Purāṇa describing the forms of torment in the cycle of existence. Yet again, the Purāṇa continues its description of torment in hell: there are regions called the Heated and the Intensely Heated, Mahāraurava and Raurava. There is a hell named Andhakāra, and even one darker still. In the first, the darkness is single; in the second, it is said to be doubled. In the fifth hell, there are fivefold torments; in the sixth, the torments are sixfold. In a single day and night, the departed traverse the path to that dreadful city. There, only suffering exists—no happiness can be found. Indeed, suffering is multiplied by further suffering. Though the dead are released there, the agents of death are rare, and nothing brings comfort or joy. The very ground is covered with sharp, heated iron thorns, piercing the feet of those who walk upon it. Hunger is extreme, thirst is overwhelming. When one, tormented by thirst, desires to drink water, the demons lead him to a lake. Hopeful, he runs to drink, but instead, the demons bring him only cooked flesh, intensifying his anguish. Such, O listeners, is the vivid and dreadful journey through the realms of torment as described in these sacred verses.