In another court, in another life, in circular time.

Photo: Guan Yin

On the first day of the Hungry Ghost Month, I find myself at the 10 Courts of Hell.

S is in town, and he has one request: to see the Hell’s Museum, marketed as the first museum in the world that explores death rituals and the afterlife across religions. When we enter Haw Par Villa, where the museum is situated, I realise it was funded by the Tiger Balm brothers. In the museum’s gift shop, jars of Tiger Balm line the shelves, and I wonder whether this is the smell of the afterlife.

It does not feel like an appropriate question to ask.

Before the tour begins, we are asked to watch an eight-minute video that traces how different religions around the world came to be. I learn that Taoism and Hinduism are closer than I had given them credit for, and that Zoroastrianism predates the Abrahamic faiths. I take notes on my phone about linear and circular representations of time, the beginnings of a Substack post taking shape.

Before we start our museum tour proper, Jimmy, our guide, asks us to strike the gong to announce our arrival at Hell’s Museum.

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do on the first day of the Hungry Ghost Month?” I ask.

Jimmy looks stunned. Nobody, it seems, has asked him this before. He tries to play it off, but I am suspicious. Surely, surely, there is something remiss about announcing our arrival at the Courts of Hell on the very day the Gates are said to open. I demur. P takes my place and hits the gong, the reverberating sound travelling through the trees, and on that dramatic note, we descend into the underworld.

===

I am in a palace court, surrounded by marble.

Tall pillars rise, ornate with Corinthian carvings, blacks and greys and whites intermingling. Everything is shimmery, icy, cool, and the air is laden with…something. I know I have stumbled into this place, that I am not meant to be here.