In the course of time, the two sons of Atmadeva grew into young men. Gokarna, the elder, distinguished himself through learning and wisdom, while his younger brother, Dhundhukari, became the very opposite—wicked beyond measure. Dhundhukari abandoned all sense of purity and decorum. He neglected even the most basic acts of cleanliness, such as bathing, and cared nothing for ritual purity. He consumed improper foods, and, utterly lacking self-restraint, he indulged in wrongful gains. So depraved was he that he would eat with hands defiled by contact with corpses. His actions became ever more heinous. He turned to theft and arson, earning the hatred of all. For his own amusement, he would seize children at play and, without remorse, throw them into wells. His violence knew no bounds: he carried weapons, oppressed the poor and the blind, and kept the company of outcastes and dogs. He would brandish a noose, ever ready for mischief. Through his association with prostitutes, Dhundhukari squandered all the wealth he had inherited from his ancestors. In a fit of rage, he even beat his own parents and seized their remaining vessels for himself. His father, now utterly destitute and broken-hearted, cried out in anguish, “A son so wicked, who brings nothing but suffering, deserves to be killed! Where shall I go? Who will relieve my sorrow? I am so miserable that I wish to give up my life—alas, how wretched is my state!” At that moment, Gokarna, wise and compassionate, approached his father and offered words of counsel, guiding him toward detachment. “This worldly existence is insubstantial,” he said, “full of suffering and delusion. What is truly one’s son, one’s wealth, or one’s affection? All these are ever changing and consume the heart. “Even Indra himself, nor the greatest of monarchs, finds happiness in this world. True happiness belongs only to the sage who is dispassionate and dwells in solitude. Cast off ignorance, which appears as attachment to offspring; delusion leads only to hell. This body will one day be left behind—go to the forest and seek liberation.” Hearing these words, his father, ready to depart, asked, “My child, tell me in detail what should be done in the forest. I am bound in the dark pit of attachment, crippled by my own actions—O ocean of compassion, lift me up!” Gokarna replied, “Abandon your attachment to this body of bones, flesh, and blood. Give up possessiveness toward wife, children, and others. Realize that this world is fleeting and perishable. Delight in detachment and devotion. Practice true dharma always, forsake worldly duties, serve saintly persons, and renounce desire and craving. Quickly abandon thoughts of others’ faults and virtues; instead, drink deeply the nectar of service and sacred stories.” Thus instructed by his son, the father left home, though compelled by sorrow and circumstance. At the age of sixty, with firm resolve, he went to the forest, and there, daily engaged in the service of Lord Hari. Through the recitation of the Tenth Canto of the Bhagavata, he attained the grace of Śrī Kṛṣṇa. Blessed by his devotion, he resided in the celestial city, enjoying the splendor of the gods’ gardens, living in a palace constructed by Viśvakarmā himself. There, he dwelled in the abode of the fortune of the three worlds, surrounded by all prosperity, his heart free from pride and arrogance, rich in knowledge, wealth, and noble birth. After the passing of their father, the mother suffered greatly at the hands of Dhundhukari. He beat her severely, demanding, “Tell me where the wealth is kept, or I will kill you with this stick!” Overcome by fear and grief for her son, the mother, in the darkness of night, threw herself into a well and ended her life. Gokarna, steadfast in yoga, departed on pilgrimage. He was untouched by sorrow or happiness, seeing neither enemies nor friends. Dhundhukari remained at home, surrounded by five courtesans. Deluded by his obsession with maintaining them, he committed ever more cruel deeds. One day, the courtesans, desiring more ornaments, incited Dhundhukari to obtain them. Blinded by lust and heedless of death, he left the house in search of wealth. He gathered riches from various places, returned home, and lavished the women with fine clothes, ornaments, and other goods. Observing the accumulation of wealth, the women conspired among themselves at night. “He steals daily,” they said, “and because of this, the king will arrest him. After seizing the wealth, the king will surely kill him. To protect ourselves, why should we not secretly kill him first?” Having resolved thus, they bound Dhundhukari with ropes while he slept. They tried to kill him and take his wealth, but when he did not die quickly, they grew anxious. Resorting to even greater cruelty, they forced heaps of burning coals into his mouth. Tormented by the agony, Dhundhukari perished. The women, reckless and unfeeling, abandoned his body in a pit, keeping their crime a secret. When questioned by others, they would say, “He has gone far away, for he is dear to us; drawn by greed for wealth, he will return this year.” Such is the fate of those who trust in wicked women, the scripture warns. The fool who relies on them is overcome by suffering. Their words may seem sweet as nectar, increasing pleasure, but their hearts are sharp as razors—who, among men, is truly dear to them? Having seized his wealth, these promiscuous women, who had many husbands, departed. Thus, Dhundhukari became a great ghost, tormented by his own evil deeds. In his ghostly form, he became like a whirlwind, ceaselessly running in all directions, afflicted by cold and heat, without food or water, and ever thirsty. Finding no shelter, he wandered, crying out, “Alas, fate!” In time, Gokarna learned of his brother’s death from the people of the world. Recognizing Dhundhukari’s helpless state, Gokarna performed the funeral rites at Gaya and, wherever he journeyed to holy places, conducted the rites there as well. After wandering thus, Gokarna returned to his own city. One night, as he lay asleep in the courtyard of his house, unnoticed by others, Dhundhukari appeared before him in the dead of night, showing himself in a most terrifying form. He displayed many forms in succession: first a sheep, then an elephant, a buffalo, Indra, Agni, and again a man—each form but once—revealing his restless, suffering condition.