On festival days, there are certain periods set apart as inauspicious, and the wise, knowing the dangers that may arise, avoid these times. For, it is said, the son of one who destroys a pregnancy meets a violent end, and even a maiden may fall under the sway of delusion. There are those who, entering the womb, consume it from within, and others who, after eating, sow confusion and delusion. From this bewilderment, strange creatures are born—serpents, frogs, and turtles. Other reptiles and beings also come into existence, some even springing from excrement. If a pregnant woman, for six months, consumes meat without restraint, or if she stays through the night beneath the shadow of a tree, at a crossroads, in a cemetery, or in a place littered with bones, or if she goes without an upper garment, or weeps at midnight, then a dark spirit is said to enter her. There is also one known as Kṣudraka, destroyer of crops. Ever watchful for a breach, he brings ruin to the fields. If someone, dissatisfied, begins planting on an inauspicious day, the yield is lost. Kṣudraka enters the fields at the end of the season, so it is taught that one should always perform the rites on an auspicious day, after properly worshipping the moon. Work in the fields should be begun and completed joyfully, in the company of satisfied companions. There is a maiden called Niyojikā, difficult to endure, and she has four daughters known as Pracodikā. These women, intoxicated, mad, and careless, are always ready to incite men. They enter to destroy, urging harshness—promoting unrighteousness disguised as righteousness, and desire masked as detachment. They bring adversity under the guise of prosperity, and bondage dressed as liberation. Unruly and impure, they lead men astray, each in her own way. When these beings enter men, those men lose sight of their goals. Their entry into a household is most likely when the sky glows red at dusk. In homes where offerings to Dhātā and Vidhātṛ are neglected, where people eat and drink with companions, letting drops of water fall, among nine women, their influence is transmitted, and offspring are quickly born. Of these hostile ones, there are three sons: the water-taker, the receiver, and another called the darkness-coverer. The darkness-coverer’s nature is revealed when pollution arises from contact with lamp oil, or when the threshing floor is crossed, or in places where pestle and mortar, footwear, women’s garments, or winnowing baskets are found, or where a seat is dragged with the foot. Where worship is neglected and people indulge in leisure, or where fire is brought facing south and then carried elsewhere, there, the daughters of hostility become active. One dwells on the tongue of men and women, causing them to speak falsehoods—she is called the Instigator, the source of slander in the house. Another listens inattentively and is exceedingly wicked. One of them seizes upon spoken words and acts as the receiver; another overtakes the minds of people, enveloping them in darkness and evil intent. The one who gives rise to anger is known as the concealer with darkness. There are also three daughters born of theft: one who takes everything, one who takes half, and one who takes strength. These dwell in homes where proper conduct is lacking and in places of bad behavior. Whenever people with unwashed feet enter the kitchen, or wicked ones gather in assembly, or betrayal occurs in the household, these beings move about freely and take pleasure as they wish. Yet, the son of Wandering, known as Kākajaṅgha, is unique. When he possesses someone, no one in the city finds enjoyment. If a person sings while eating, or sings and laughs, or if a man engages in intercourse at twilight, Kākajaṅgha enters him. When a woman menstruates, she gives birth to three daughters: the breast-taker, the ornament-taker, and the birth-taker. If the full marriage rites are not properly performed for such a woman, or if they are delayed, one of these daughters will take away both her breasts. If the proper śrāddha is not offered, or if the mother is not worshipped, the ornament is taken from the married maiden. In a lying-in chamber without fire, water, incense, lamp, weapon, pestle, or mustard seeds, the birth-taker enters, takes away the newborn—her own offspring—and the mother, stricken, quickly abandons the child. This birth-taker is fierce and flesh-eating, so diligent protection must be ensured in the lying-in chamber. Through neglect of memory and dwelling in empty houses, her son, Pracaṇḍa, brings destruction. From her grandsons are born hundreds of thousands of Līkās, and eight castes of outcastes, terrifying with staff and noose. Driven by hunger, these lice of the outcaste lineage rushed at one another, each seeking to devour the other. But Pracaṇḍa restrained them and established a rule: from that day forward, whoever gives shelter to lice will suffer severe punishment. If lice of the outcaste lineage give birth in a dwelling, the previous infestation is destroyed at once. She then gives birth to two daughters: one who steals the vigor of men and women, and another with the form of wind—one with form, one formless; these are her weapons. At the end of conception, the wind-formed one, wherever she casts her offspring, causes that man or woman to become possessed by wind-semen. Thus, the wise are ever watchful, for in these subtle ways, hidden forces shape the fate of households and the lives within.