The cities are teemed by worms, plunge against each other. These ancient creatures toss and turn endlessly, their bodies gleaming faintly in the dark light that reaches them. They feed on the earth, leaving behind waste in the same soil. Their constant movement, a rhythmic stretch and shrink, defines their existence in their bottomless and lightless ‘Patala loka‘, the underworld. But there is constant churn of activity ornamented by the fermented odour.