In a city adorned with celestial splendor, where the gardens of the gods flourished and prosperity abounded, Indra’s palace stood—crafted by the divine architect Viśvakarmā, a residence that held the fortune of the three worlds. Within this magnificent abode lived a man distinguished by his knowledge, wealth, and noble birth. Despite such endowments, he remained free from pride and arrogance. But when his father passed away, the son’s nature turned cruel. Driven by greed, he severely beat his mother, threatening her with a stick and demanding to know where the family’s wealth was hidden, declaring he would kill her if she did not reveal it. Terrified and heartbroken for her son, the mother, in the darkness of night, threw herself into a well, ending her own life. In the aftermath, Gokarṇa, established in yoga, set out on a pilgrimage, detached from sorrow and happiness, without enemies or friends. Meanwhile, Dhundhukārī stayed at home, surrounded by five courtesans. He committed extremely cruel acts, his mind deluded by the need to maintain these women. One day, the courtesans desired ornaments. Dhundhukārī, blinded by lust and oblivious to the reality of death, left his home to procure them. He gathered wealth from various sources and returned, presenting the women with fine clothes, ornaments, and many luxuries. Observing the accumulation of wealth, the courtesans grew fearful. At night, they whispered among themselves, “He steals daily; the king will surely arrest him. After seizing the wealth, the king will kill him. To protect ourselves, why should we not secretly kill him first?” Resolving to do so, they bound Dhundhukārī with ropes as he slept, killed him, took the wealth, and disappeared. Yet, their task was not easy. Placing a noose around his neck, they tried to kill him, but he did not die quickly, causing them anxiety. They then threw heaps of burning coals into his mouth. Tormented by the agony of the flames, Dhundhukārī perished. The reckless women abandoned his body in a pit, keeping their crime a secret from all. When questioned by the townspeople, the courtesans would say, “He has gone far away, for he is dear to us; he will return this year, drawn away by greed for wealth.” Thus, the truth remained hidden. It is said: A wise person should never place trust in wicked women, for a fool who relies on them is overwhelmed by suffering. The words of lustful women may seem like nectar, increasing pleasure, but their hearts are sharp as razors—who among men is truly dear to them? Having seized his wealth, these women, promiscuous and with many husbands, departed. Dhundhukārī, left behind, became a great ghost, tormented by his evil deeds. Taking the form of a whirlwind, he roamed ceaselessly in all directions, afflicted by cold and heat, famished and thirsty, finding no shelter, crying out repeatedly, “Alas, fate!” After some time, Gokarṇa learned of his brother’s death from the world. Seeing Dhundhukārī’s helpless state, Gokarṇa performed the funeral rites at Gayā and, wherever he traveled to a holy place, conducted the rites there. After wandering thus, Gokarṇa returned to his own city, and at night, he slept in the courtyard of his house, unnoticed by others. There, as Gokarṇa slept, Dhundhukārī revealed himself in the dead of night, displaying a terrifying form. He transformed, appearing first as a sheep, then an elephant, a buffalo, Indra, Agni, and finally as a man—each form only once. Witnessing these transformations, Gokarṇa, calm and composed, realized this was a soul in misery and spoke to him. “Who are you, so fierce in the night? From where have you come to this condition? Are you a ghost, a goblin, or a demon? Tell me.” Thus questioned, Dhundhukārī cried out loudly again and again, unable to speak, making only gestures. Gokarṇa then took water in his hands and raised him up; freed by that single act, Dhundhukārī began to speak. “I am your brother, Dhundhukārī. By my own fault, I have destroyed my human birth. My deeds are countless, born of great ignorance. I harmed the worlds and was killed by women through suffering. Thus, I have become a ghost and bear this wretched state. I live on air, receiving only the results that fate allows. O friend, ocean of compassion, brother—quickly release me!” Hearing these words, Gokarṇa replied, “For your sake, I have duly offered the ancestral oblation at Gayā. How is it that you have not been liberated? This astonishes me. If liberation does not come even from the Gayā śrāddha, then there is no other means here. What should I do for you, O departed one? Tell me the truth in detail.” The departed one answered, “Even with a hundred Gayā śrāddhas, I will not attain liberation. Consider now some other means for my release.” Gokarṇa was amazed. “If liberation is not gained even by a hundred śrāddhas, then your release is indeed difficult. Now, remain in your own place, O departed one, without fear. I will consider and perform some act that will bring about your liberation.” Thus instructed, Dhundhukārī went to his own place. Gokarṇa spent the night in thought, unable to sleep. In the morning, the people gathered joyfully to see him. He told them everything that had happened during the night. The learned, the steadfast in yoga, the wise, and those who spoke of Brahman—all examined the scriptures, but none could find any means for Dhundhukārī’s liberation.