The battlefield was a vision of terror and chaos. Warriors, their limbs strained from wielding weapons, moved frantically among the dying and the half-dead. The foreign land echoed with the anguished cries of those fallen, the earth littered with bodies and the slain. Men, gripped by mutual hatred, succumbed to death as the chariots of fate rolled on relentlessly. Their teeth, once bared in fury, could no longer bite; their minds, clouded by violence, forgot the comfort of home and the memory of beloved deities. Some perished on the roads, overwhelmed by shame, while even the bravest resorted to flight—undaunted by the whirling pools of blood, desperate only to find escape. Arrows rained down, piercing vital spots, drawing screams of pain as bodies tangled together, tossed about by fate like a corpse swinging from a noose. Banners, umbrellas, lovely fans, and lotus garlands were swept away, and the horizon glowed crimson—radiant as if adorned with blood-red lotuses. Chariot wheels spun like eddies in a vast, red ocean, the field adorned with clusters of foaming banners and bubbles from shattered fans. Many chariots lay overturned, like proud cities destroyed by trembling earth, and the battlefield spread out like a forest devastated by a furious storm. The land appeared as if scorched at the end of an age, or like an ocean drunk dry by ascetic sages—a place ruined by excessive rains, its people utterly destroyed. Vultures, their crests bowed low, circled in thick rings, joined by flocks of crows. The ground was strewn with corpses, resembling fallen elephants, among scattered spears and maces. The carnage looked like a grove of palm trees rising from rocky peaks, with trees on the riverbank lifted up by heaps of bodies, forming a morbid forest. Flowers and cloths, torn from the slain, lay thick upon the ground, and garlands woven from entrails dragged by jackals adorned the field. The blood-lake’s lotus clusters, their banners destroyed, sank into red mud, and the cries of men sinking within called out to the friends of the fallen. The lair of elephant corpses, watched by terrified survivors, was tangled with trees whose vines had been slashed by weapons, blocked by dense and fierce barricades. The river of blood carried clusters of severed elephant trunks and human arms, and on its red current floated white garments and round shields. Men, their lives cut short, wandered and fell swiftly, while headless demons dropped here and there. Others fled the army, broken by a rain of arrows from above, their voices weak and gasping, the sound of blood gushing forth. Swords, washed in streams of blood pouring from severed veins, pressed onward through the dreadful tumult, accompanied by the clangor of tāla, ottāla, vetāla, and tāla drums. Within shattered chariots and scattered logs, some warriors hid deep in the forest, their presence inspiring fear in charioteers and their steeds. Some corpses, mouths filled with muddy blood, made faint rattling sounds of life; others, with barely raised necks, were watched by jackals and crows. The air was filled with the uproar of fierce carnivores fighting over scraps of flesh, and the battlefield swarmed with beasts hungry for death. Countless horses, elephants, men, lords, and chariots lay overturned, their throats pouring rivers of blood. That field of death, bristling with unsheathed weapons and mountains of corpses, seemed to reflect the chaos of the world at the end of an age. As the day ended, the sun—like a hero wounded in battle—was overcome by time and set, its radiance fading, its brilliance abandoned in the ocean’s depths. The sky, stained by the blood of battle, mirrored the line of twilight that rose as if the sun’s head had been severed at day’s end. From earth, underworld, sky, and all directions, darkness surged forth like the floodwaters of dissolution, encircling the world like rings of spirits. When darkness was pierced, the sun appeared atop the mountain of day, adorned with the crimson hue of twilight and studded with pearls of stars. In the lifeless, pitch-black gloom, lakes lost their flavor, and lotuses shrank—like hope fading in the hearts of the dead. Birds, their wings drooping, quickly fell asleep, necks tucked like tortoises, resting in their nests as all causes rest in every limb. Rows of water-lilies, graced by the gentle light of the rising moon, blossomed joyfully, as if prosperity were awakening among the valiant. The lotus pond, filled with red water and guarded by the arrows of evening, became a battlefield itself, its lotuses closing their faces in sorrow. Above, the sky resembled a lake adorned with star-lilies; below, the watery earth sparkled with lilies and stars. Darkness, having fulfilled its purpose, and all beings, spread out in every direction like water flowing forth. The battlefield was now crowded with singing ghosts and spirits, the air resounding with the rattling of bones and the playful cries of crows and vultures. Flames from funeral pyres, built of chariot wood, blazed brilliantly—fed by fat and flesh, crackling with the sound “paca-paca.” Fragments of bone burst and scattered, heaps of bodies lay strewn about, and ghouls began their watery games, hidden in the play of the cremation ground. The tumult of dogs, crows, yakṣas, and ghosts filled the place, as noisy as a forest where all beings had gathered and were stirred together. Frenzied ḍākinīs snatched away blood, flesh, fat, and marrow, while piśācas chewed and sucked the oozing remains. In the midst of this assembly, the cremation ground was revealed, with streams of blood and piles of corpses; a great corpse, brought by the undertakers, was laid down, with a horse left beside it. The place was filled with the dreadful dance of skulls and bones, gaping bellies, and the wailing of jackals, with clouds of fat, blood, and tears. A river of flowing blood rushed forth, inhabited by spirits of the dead, while crows, agitated, snatched at skeletons, and the field was crowded with ghouls. Within the hollow chests of corpses, young ghouls slept peacefully. In a lonely spot beneath a single tree, a demon lingered, intent on his macabre drinking games.