“O King,” the question was posed, “tell me of all the worlds you have enjoyed, and for how long you dwelled in each. You are wise in the ways of dharma—please recount them as they truly are.” The king replied, “Once, I was a universal monarch on this earth, and through my deeds, I conquered great worlds beyond. In one such world, I resided for a thousand years, and then, by virtue of my merit, I ascended to an even higher realm. “Thereafter, I dwelled in Indra’s splendid city—a city of a thousand gates, stretching a hundred yojanas across—enjoying its delights for another thousand years. Yet again, I rose higher, reaching the divine, ageless world of the Lord of Creatures, a realm difficult to attain even for the rulers of the worlds. There too, I remained for a thousand years. “In the abode of the God of gods, I wandered freely, honored by all the deities. My splendor and power matched that of the lords of the gods themselves. In Nandana, the heavenly garden, I took any form I wished, spending a hundred thousand years in joy, surrounded by the Apsarases and the fragrance of blossoming, beautiful trees. “But as I lingered there, absorbed in pleasure for ages, a fierce messenger of the gods suddenly appeared. In a voice like thunder, he cried out three times, ‘Fall!’ My time was over; my merit was spent. In that moment, as I fell from Nandana, I heard the compassionate voices of the gods lamenting from the sky, ‘Alas, how terrible! Yayati, righteous in deed and fame, now falls, his merit exhausted.’ As I plummeted, I cried out in anguish, ‘How can I, among the virtuous, fall in their midst?’ “The gods then directed me to your sacrificial ground, O king, and seeing it, I hastened here, drawn by the fragrance of your offerings and the smoke rising from your altar.” Hearing this, the king asked, “You, who enjoyed Nandana for a hundred thousand years, why did you abandon heaven and come to earth? What caused your fall?” The king answered, “Just as a man bereft of wealth is abandoned by friends and kin, so too, when merit is exhausted, the hosts of gods, along with their lord, immediately abandon a soul. When merit runs out, one falls from the higher worlds and wanders in many forms, even suffering torment in earthly hell, seeking scraps from crows, jackals, and dogs. Such is the fate of those whose merit is spent—they wander in many forms, and thus, wicked and blameworthy deeds must be avoided at all costs. “When birds, vultures, crows, and insects assail the fallen, they experience a hell on earth, suffering for countless years. Sixty thousand souls fall together through the sky, and for eighty years they wander, tormented by fierce, sharp-fanged demons of the earth as they descend. “These demons torment the fallen in many ways. Ultimately, the soul, pursued by the results of its own actions—blood, semen, and substances mixed with flowers and fruits—enters the womb of a woman, becoming an embryo. Souls may also enter trees, herbs, water, wind, earth, sky, and all manner of creatures, both four-footed and two-footed, thus taking on new embodiments. “Does the soul assume a new body in the womb, or does it enter with its own? By what means does it become human? The wind raises up the embryo in the womb, and at death, the subtle seed departs, carrying the essence of flower and fruit. This subtle being, with authority over the elements, gradually develops into the embryo. “When a child is born, consciousness awakens. Through the ears, he hears sound; through the eyes, he sees form; with the nose, he smells fragrance; with the tongue, he tastes flavor; with the skin, he feels touch; and with the mind, he perceives thought. In this way, the embodied soul is endowed with eight faculties. “But when the body is burned, buried, or cast away, and the person is no more, how does the self perceive itself then? Having left behind good or evil deeds, the soul, like the wind, leaves the body and takes birth in another womb. Those who have done good attain virtuous births; those who have done evil are born into evil forms—even as insects and moths. Creatures with four legs, two legs, and six legs are thus born according to their karma. “By what actions does a mortal attain the highest worlds—by austerity or by knowledge? The wise say this: he who, though learned, uses his knowledge to destroy the fame of others gains only perishable worlds; Brahman does not grant him its fruit. “There are four fearsome acts which, if performed with pride, bring harm: pride in the fire-offering, pride in silence, pride in study, and pride in sacrifice. Let no one take joy in being honored, nor sorrow in dishonor. The good honor the good; the wicked cannot touch the virtuous heart. ‘“I will give,” “I will sacrifice,” “This is mine,” “This is my vow”—these are all causes of fear and should be avoided. The wise, who realize the ancient refuge and restrain their minds on the path of thought, attain supreme blessedness and the highest peace, both in this life and beyond.’ The king then asked, “How does the householder practice righteousness? How does the mendicant? How does the teacher fulfill his duties? What is the path of the forest-dweller?” And the answer came: “The brahmacārin, the student, succeeds by serving his teacher, rising early, sleeping late, being gentle, self-controlled, steadfast, vigilant, and devoted to study. The householder, having earned wealth by righteous means, should perform sacrifices, give generously, and feed guests—never taking what is not freely given. This is the ancient teaching for the householder.” Thus was the journey of the soul and the path of righteousness explained, as it was, by one who knows the field.