When the night had passed and the sun rose in the sky, the mourners, with minds focused and reverent, gathered the remains of the departed and carried them to a pure place. There, with careful attention, they prepared a share for the departed—one that was sixty-four times as great as that which would be given for a good deed—ensuring that the offering was proper and complete. The rituals could take place in the shade of a mighty elephant, by the riverside, or beneath a spreading tree, but always on ground that was pure and untouched. The wise avoided locations seen by chickens, dogs, or pigs, for even the wind from a chicken’s wings or the presence of a caṇḍāla could render the place unfit for these sacred rites. All such beings and influences—serpents, spirits, sacrifices, and all that moved or stood still—were to be kept away, for the sanctity of the rites was paramount. O beautiful one, the world itself is upheld by Viṣṇu’s power, and all must be sustained in their proper order. After the offerings, the mourners would bathe upon the earth, purifying themselves, for the earth is auspicious and the world depends on her. Yet, if any remnant of the offering was left behind, it would lead to destruction, and those responsible would fall into terrible hells. With pure intention, the name and lineage of the departed were pronounced, O Mādhavi, and the offerings were made only for those of the same lineage—never to outsiders, for such acts would not please the ancestors. By giving correctly, those who had gone to the realm of the departed were gladdened. The mourner would then proceed to the great river, entering the waters fully clothed, and bathe to purify himself. Quickly, he would return and invite the brāhmaṇas, offering them arghya and pādya—water for drinking and for washing the feet—with confidence and generosity, as prescribed, O Mādhavi. With the mantra, “This seat is given to you; let rest be taken, O twice-born,” the brāhmaṇa was respectfully seated. An umbrella was provided for his protection and comfort, for the gods, gandharvas, yakṣas, the hosts of siddhas, and great asuras—all were to be honored for the benefit of the departed. Thus, an umbrella was also given to the twice-born for protection. The Gandharvas, Asuras, Siddhas, Rakshasas, and flesh-eating beings watched these rites, and if the mourner faltered or felt shame, the Asuras and Rakshasas would laugh. All the gods, sages of old, and those who had journeyed to the realm of the departed observed these acts. Then, in a dreadful day and night, there would be a rain of ashes, darkness thick and uneven, impassable and terrifying to behold. Alone, the soul of the departed would travel that unbearable path, guided by the rituals performed. The ground would be burning sand, covered with thorns—an ordeal to cross. Afterward, incense and a lamp were offered with the proper mantras. The name and lineage of the departed were recited, and the following mantra spoken: “Having left this world, you have gone to the highest state.” Then, with the fragrance-mantra, all fragrance, all flowers, incense, and the lamp were dedicated to the departed. All garments and ornaments were to be given to the Brahmin, so that every item was offered as enjoyment for the departed. For Shudras, the same rites were performed, though without recitation of mantras. When all these rituals were complete, the Brahmin was fed with cooked food. Importantly, the first portion was always offered to the departed—no one else could touch it beforehand. In this way, divinity and Brahminhood were honored and granted in the funeral offering, ensuring the soul’s journey was blessed and complete.