Let us journey, with reverence, through the vivid path described in these sacred verses. After death, the soul traverses realms of suffering, each more harrowing than the last. In the fifth region, the torments are fivefold; in the sixth, they multiply to sixfold agonies. In a single day and night, the departed travel swiftly along this path, arriving at the city of judgment. Here, there is only pain—no happiness is found. Suffering is heaped upon suffering, intensifying the torment. Within this domain, though the dead are released from the bonds of earthly existence, the agents of death are rare to encounter. No joy touches the soul here; nothing at all exists to bring comfort. The ground itself is a bed of sharp, heated iron thorns, piercing every step. Hunger becomes unbearable, thirst grows exceedingly fierce, gnawing at the spirit. When the soul desperately desires water, demons lead him to a lake. Driven by thirst, he rushes toward it, hoping for relief. But instead, the demons bring cooked flesh, and within the lake, countless fish devour everything that enters. Drawn closer by hope, the soul falls, only to experience fresh pain. Whether sitting, setting out, or running, the torment is as if it rests upon his very head. There is also a pit of excrement, and nearby looms the dreadful Kumbhīpāka hell. Demons, with sharp claws, tear the soul apart along cruel paths. The journey leads through a forest of sword-leaves and another filled with pointed spikes. Along the way, he is burned, cut, pierced, and broken. Black and spotted dogs, fierce and hard to approach, prowl these regions. The silk-cotton tree stands nearby, covered in hostile thorns. Every adversity and suffering is visited upon the wicked-minded. If he desires coolness, he is met with scorching heat; if he longs for warmth, he is plunged into cold. His body is cut into hundreds of pieces, constantly, by thousands of blows. A dreadful river appears, filled with water and terrifying serpents. This river, called Karambha-sand, stretches for a hundred yojanas. Next comes the great river named Vaitarani, its waters salty and cruel. The mud is deep, breaking skin, flesh, and bones. Enormous owls, each as long as a bow, with diamond-like tongues, shatter bones mercilessly. After struggling through a yojana-long mire, the soul is beset by swarms of mice, gnawing him in countless ways. Yet, when touched by the morning wind, his flesh returns, only for the cycle of torment to begin anew. There is a dreadful mango grove, home to birds that add to the suffering. The soul, stripped of veins, eyes, and ears, is left vulnerable. The entire realm shines, blazing like an evening cloud. This is known as Yama’s furnace, deep and three yojanas wide. Within it, thousands upon thousands of departed spirits, tens of millions even, are gathered. In the belly of the cullī, the souls come to rest, and a swift current carries them onward. Each region is difficult to cross and terrifying, each ordeal follows in its proper order. There are ten thorny creepers and thirteen cauldrons of boiling punishment. Everywhere, pitiless Rākṣasas roam, dreadful to behold. In a dry well and amid swirling smoke, the soul hangs upside down, enduring the consequences of his actions. Such is the journey through the realms of suffering, faithfully described in the sacred verses, a warning and a guide for all.