Blinded by lust and utterly forgetting the inevitability of death, a man once left his home at the urging of the courtesans who surrounded him. They desired ornaments, and so, driven by his passions, he ventured out to gather wealth from wherever he could find it. Upon his return, he lavished those women with fine clothes, glittering ornaments, and many other gifts. Yet, as the night fell and the women observed the accumulation of riches, they whispered among themselves, “He steals every day; surely the king will soon arrest him.” Fearing for their own safety, they plotted, “After seizing his wealth, the king will certainly kill him. Why should we not protect our interests and secretly kill him ourselves?” Resolved in their plan, they waited until he slept, then bound him tightly with ropes, killed him, took the wealth, and vanished to some unknown place. Placing a noose around his neck, they tried to end his life swiftly, but he did not die immediately, and their anxiety grew. In their desperation, they threw heaps of burning coals into his mouth, and tormented by the agony of the flames, he finally perished. With reckless abandon, the women discarded his body in a pit, keeping their crime hidden from all. When questioned by others, they would say, “He has gone far away, for he is dear to us; he will return this year, drawn by greed for wealth.” Thus, the truth remained concealed. It is said that a wise person should never place trust in wicked women, for a fool who relies upon them is overwhelmed by suffering. Though the words of lustful women may sound sweet as nectar and bring pleasure, their hearts are sharp as razors—who among men is truly dear to them? Having seized his wealth, those promiscuous women, accustomed to many husbands, departed. The unfortunate man, Dhundhukari, became a great ghost, tormented by the evil deeds he had committed. Assuming the form of a whirlwind, he wandered ceaselessly in all directions, afflicted by heat and cold, without food or water, crying out in despair, “Alas, fate!” He found no shelter anywhere. After some time, the news of Dhundhukari’s death reached his brother, Gokarna. Recognizing his brother’s helpless state, Gokarna performed the funeral rites at Gaya and, wherever he traveled to a holy place, conducted the rites there. Thus wandering, Gokarna eventually returned to his city. At night, he came to sleep in the courtyard of his own house, unnoticed by others. There, in the dead of night, Dhundhukari revealed himself to Gokarna, displaying a terrifying form. He transformed, one after another, into a sheep, an elephant, a buffalo, Indra, Agni, and again a man—each form only once. Witnessing these transformations, Gokarna remained composed, recognizing that this was someone in great misery, and spoke to him: “Who are you, so fierce at night? From where have you come to this condition? Are you a ghost, a goblin, or a demon? Tell me.” Suta narrates that, thus questioned, Dhundhukari cried out loudly again and again, unable to speak words, making only gestures of consciousness. Then Gokarna, taking water in his hands, raised him up, and by this single act, the sinner was freed enough to speak. The ghost said, “I am your brother, Dhundhukari. By my own fault, I have destroyed my human birth. There is no count of my deeds, transformed by great ignorance. I am one who harmed the worlds, killed by women through suffering. Therefore, I have become a ghost and bear this wretched state. I live on air, receiving results only as fate allows. O friend, ocean of compassion, brother, quickly release me!” Hearing these words, Gokarna replied, “For your sake, I have duly offered the ancestral oblation at Gaya. How is it that you have not been liberated? This is truly astonishing to me. If liberation does not come even from the Gaya 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 replied, “Even with a hundred Gaya śrāddhas, I will not attain liberation. Consider now some other means for my release.” Gokarna 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, Dhundhukari went to his own place, while Gokarna spent the night in thought, unable to sleep. In the morning, as Gokarna arrived, the people gathered joyfully. He told them everything that had happened during the night. The learned, the steadfast in yoga, the wise, and the speakers of Brahman—all examined the scriptures, but found no means for Dhundhukari’s liberation. Then, the words of the Sun were established as supreme regarding his liberation. At that time, Gokarna restrained the speed of the Sun and prayed, “To you, O witness of the world, I offer my respects. Tell me the cause of liberation.” Hearing this from afar, the Sun spoke clearly, “Recite the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam for seven days—this brings liberation.” All recognized this as the true form of dharma. Everyone agreed, “This must be done with effort, for it is indeed easy.” Gokarna resolved to begin the recitation. For the sake of hearing it, people came from villages and regions—the lame, the blind, the old, and the slow, all seeking the destruction of their sins. A great assembly was formed, wondrous even to the gods, as Gokarna, having taken his seat, began to narrate the story.