Seeing the strange and pitiable condition before him, Gokarṇa, ever composed and resolute, understood that the being before him was suffering greatly. With compassion, he approached and spoke: “Who are you, so fearsome in the night? From where have you come to this miserable state? Are you a ghost, a goblin, or a demon? Tell us your story.” Thus questioned, the apparition began to wail loudly, again and again, unable to form words, expressing itself only through desperate gestures. Moved by his suffering, Gokarṇa took water in his cupped hands and, with a solemn act, raised the being up. Instantly, as if released from invisible chains, the tormented soul found his voice. He spoke, “I am your brother, Dhundhukari. Through my own faults, I have destroyed my human birth. The count of my misdeeds is beyond measure; blinded by ignorance, I became a source of harm in the world. My life ended in misery, killed through the suffering inflicted by women. Because of these actions, I have become a ghost, doomed to this wretched state. I subsist on air, receiving the results of my past only as fate allows.” He pleaded, “O friend, ocean of compassion, my brother—release me quickly from this torment!” Hearing these words, Gokarṇa replied with concern, “For your sake, I have performed the ancestral rites at Gayā, as prescribed. How is it that you remain unliberated? This astonishes me. If even the sacred rites of Gayā cannot bring liberation, then what else can be done? Tell me, departed one, what can I do for you? Speak truly and in detail.” Dhundhukari replied, “Even with a hundred Gayā śrāddhas, I cannot attain liberation. Consider now some other means for my release.” Hearing this, Gokarṇa was filled with wonder. “If liberation cannot be gained even by a hundred śrāddhas, then your release is indeed difficult,” he mused. “Stay in your place, O departed one, without fear. I will consider and perform some act that will bring about your liberation.” Thus reassured, Dhundhukari returned to his own place, while Gokarṇa spent a sleepless night, deep in thought. At dawn, the people gathered joyfully as Gokarṇa arrived, and he told them all that had transpired during the night. The learned, the steadfast in yoga, the wise, and those versed in the Vedas all gathered, examining the scriptures in search of a means for Dhundhukari’s liberation. Yet, none could find a solution. Then, the assembly recalled the words of the Sun, acknowledging them as supreme in such matters. At that moment, Gokarṇa, with devotion, invoked the Sun, restraining its course and praying, “O witness of the world, I offer you my respects. Tell me the cause of liberation.” Hearing this plea from afar, the Sun spoke clearly: “Recite the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam for seven days—this alone brings liberation.” The assembly recognized this as the true path of dharma. All agreed, “This must be done with effort, for it is indeed easy.” With determination, Gokarṇa began preparations for the seven-day recitation. People flocked from villages and distant regions—the lame, the blind, the old, and the slow—all eager for the destruction of their sins. A great assembly formed, so wondrous that even the gods marveled. Gokarṇa took his seat amidst the gathering and began to narrate the divine story. At that time, the departed Dhundhukari also arrived, searching for a place to listen. He noticed a bamboo with seven knots standing upright, and, unable to remain in his ghostly form, entered a hole at its base, taking refuge inside the bamboo to hear the sacred discourse. Recognizing the chief Vaiṣṇava brāhmaṇa as the foremost listener, Gokarṇa, the son of Dhenu, began the clear narration from the first book. At the end of the first day, as the final verse was recited, a wondrous event took place: the first knot of the bamboo split open with a resounding crack, witnessed by the virtuous assembly. On the second evening, the second knot broke; on the third evening, the third knot followed. In this way, over seven days, each knot split, one after another, as the twelve cantos were completed. At the end of the seventh day, Dhundhukari was released from his ghostly state. He emerged in a divine form, adorned with a garland of tulasi, clad in yellow garments, his complexion dark as a rain cloud, crowned and wearing earrings. He immediately bowed before his brother Gokarṇa and said, “By your compassion, I have been freed from bondage and the impurity of being a departed soul. Blessed is the discourse of the Bhagavata, which destroys the suffering of departed souls; blessed too is the seven-day recitation, which grants the fruit of attaining Krishna’s realm.” He continued, “All sins tremble when the seven-day hearing is undertaken; this narration brings about immediate deliverance. Whether moist or dry, light or heavy, done by speech, mind, or action, hearing burns away sin, just as fire consumes fuel. In this land of Bharata, among the wise and even in the assembly of gods, the birth of those who do not hear this narration is declared fruitless.” Reflecting further, he said, “What is the use of protecting a well-nourished, strong body, which is unstable, without hearing the teachings of Shuka? This body is but a pillar of bones, bound by sinews, smeared with flesh and blood, covered by skin, foul-smelling, a vessel for urine and excrement. Afflicted by old age, sorrow, and the consequences of actions, it is a house of disease and suffering, hard to fill, hard to bear, corrupted, flawed, and perishable in a moment. In the end, it becomes worms, filth, and ashes—how can unstable actions performed with such a body ever accomplish anything lasting? The food prepared in the morning perishes by evening; in a body nourished by such food, what permanence can there be?” He concluded, “By hearing for seven days, Hari is attained in this very world; therefore, for the removal of faults, this alone is the means.” Thus, through the compassionate act of Gokarṇa and the power of the seven-day Bhāgavatam recitation, Dhundhukari was liberated, and the assembled devotees realized the supreme efficacy of hearing the divine story.