In the heart of the forests, the leaves had shriveled and rustled, scorched by wildfires, and the groves stood empty, as if abandoned long ago. Suddenly, a dreadful and uncontrolled blaze erupted without warning, drying up every thicket and leaving behind only ashes and remnants of grass. The bodies of all living beings were covered in dust; every person was hungry. The land, deprived of food, grass, and water, was encircled by wildfire. Buffaloes wandered the region, sinking into mirages and sand, while the wind raised heaps of sand and clouds covered the sky. Crowds of people, longing only to hear the sound of water, suffered under the intense heat that dried up all life. Driven by hunger, some lost their lives in a frenzy, devouring their own children; others, desperate, gnawed at their own limbs, their teeth sunk deep as they writhed in agony. The place was strewn with fragments of meat, bones, and sharp splinters of khadira wood, embers scattered about, and even stones gnawed by famished frogs. Mothers, sons, and fathers mingled together, seized by one another in desperation; forest mynas were swallowed whole by vultures with roaring bellies. The ground was soaked with blood from severed limbs as creatures attacked each other, while maddened elephants, agitated by the frenzy of lions, were fiercely devoured. It was a terrifying scene: lions wandered, swallowing deer in a single gulp, and people engaged in mutual slaughter, like wrestlers locked in deadly combat. The trees stood stripped of leaves, their trunks scorched and blackened, the air thick with ashes; the ground was smeared with remains licked by blood-drinking cats. The forest winds carried the tumult of dense, blazing flames, and everywhere the jungle was tinged yellow by leaping clusters of fire that stumbled and flared. From the burned dens of serpents, columns of smoky, fleshy clumps arose; the sky was streaked with clouds colored by the wind-driven tongues of flame. The air was filled with whirling pillars of ash, tossed by wild winds, and the cries of children with their teeth bitten off echoed amidst the wailing of men. A great corpse lay there, its teeth torn out by the tumult of men, its flesh swiftly devoured by packs of blood-soaked fingers. Its complexion was darkened by smoke, yellowed by the sound of rustling leaves and creepers, as fierce vultures circled and devoured its flesh, while meteors roamed the sky. Limbs torn apart by one another threw the place into panic, its heart and belly split open by crackling, blazing fire. The terrifying forest fire, roaring with the sound of rushing wind, leapt about; trees fell like burning coals at the hiss of frightened serpents. That region, hollow and dry, having reached such utter ruin, resembled the world scorched by the fire of twelve suns. The forest, with its blazing, flame-haired trees and winds sweeping all before them, became like the burning pleasure-houses of the sun’s own children. At that time, in that place, under such harsh and calamitous conditions, at the end of a terrible age, the heat was relentless. Some people, with their wives and friends, departed for another land, like clouds dispersing from the sky in autumn. Others, merged with their bodies and limbs, sons, wives, and closest kin, perished there, like trees cut down in a forest. Some were devoured by wild beasts as they left their homes, like fledgling birds seized by hawks when leaving their nests. Some entered blazing fire like moths, and some fell into chasms like rocks tumbling from mountains. But I, abandoning my relatives—such as in-laws and my own people—departed from that land with only my wife, and with great difficulty. Evading fires, winds, guards, and even predators, I escaped the terrors of death, departing with my wife. Having reached the border of that land, beneath a palm tree, I set down my children from my shoulders, as if laying aside burdensome misfortunes. Exhausted from long toil, I rested, as one freed from hell, scorched by the summer forest fire, like a lotus deprived of water in the heat. Then, as the daughter of a caṇḍāla rested beneath the tree, sleeping in the cool shade, two children embraced her. My son named Thutthaka stood before me; he was our youngest, exceedingly dear to us, and radiant in appearance. With a sorrowful heart and eyes brimming with tears, he said to me, “Give me flesh quickly, and let me drink blood at once.” Again and again, my young son kept saying this, crying out from hunger, and he reached a state near death. I told him repeatedly, “Son, there is no flesh,” but still, in his great folly, he kept insisting, “Give me flesh from your body.” Then, overwhelmed by affection and weighed down by intense sorrow, I said to him, “Son, eat my cooked flesh.” Even that he accepted, again saying, “Give me your flesh,” and, with his strength exhausted and limbs slack, he ate my flesh. Desiring to remove all suffering, deluded by love and compassion, I quickly rose for the sake of my son, who was near death. Bringing wood from the forest, scorched by the heat of summer, I built a funeral pyre there for myself, intending to die. Then the funeral pyre was kindled, its flames licking upward, and in a moment it stood there, crackling and snapping, eager for my body. My daughter said to me, “When you fall upon this pyre, you must quickly tear off and eat your own flesh, piece by piece.