Kamma: Action and its ripening
Kamma is deeds bearing their own fruit. Therefore carries the whole weight of the sentence: the foreign army on the road is the late chapter of a long story, arriving the way a debt comes due on a day the borrower never picked. The invaders bring nothing new from outside; what was done inside those houses for years is what now walks toward them with a sword.
Anicca: Impermanence
Anicca is the passing of everything put together. Houses keep standing while the names attached to them change hands; the family that laid the walls eats at the table one season and strangers eat there the next, at the same doorway, drawing from the same well. Stone outlasts its owners, which is the reason holding stone was never as firm as it looked.
Mamaṅkāra: Mine-making
Mamaṅkāra is the habit of stamping mine onto things. A house becomes ours through a deed, a threshold, the long custom of walking in without knocking, and none of that grip survives another family carrying its bedding through the door. Possession sat in the mind the whole time, which is why it changes hands faster than the roof or the walls do.
Māna: Conceit
Māna is measuring oneself against others: better, equal, worse. Strength was the measuring stick for these men, so when the stick breaks the pride ends with it, the way a boast about a fine house goes quiet once the house burns. Conceit needs something underneath it to hold weight, and here everything it leaned on is being carried off by hands from somewhere else.
Sīlabbataparāmāsa: Clinging to rite and observance
Sīlabbataparāmāsa is trusting that ceremony by itself keeps a person safe. The sanctuary stood as a promise, a wall no enemy could cross because of what was performed inside it, and then the boots come in anyway. A priest speaking this while already far from his own altar knows the point: observance carries weight when it changes how people live, and held as a shield it leaves the holder standing in the open.