The strong-armed Lord gave his command that the truth should be spoken to the brāhmaṇa. Obedient to this order, a swift messenger led me without delay, showing me all that was to be seen. When I entered, he who presided there—noble and discerning—rose upon seeing me. He gazed at me thoughtfully, weighing my presence with honest reflection. As he conversed with me, the noble one issued instructions to his attendants. Citragupta spoke, describing them: “These are devoted, unassailable, ever steadfast in their vows.” Then he declared, “This brāhmaṇa, as I have decreed, shall journey to the abode of the departed. Yet, he shall know no distress—neither suffering, nor the torment of heat or cold shall afflict him.” Having received this boon, the brāhmaṇa pondered the teachings of his guru. By this grace, he was permitted to behold, as he wished, the foremost attendant of the Lord of Dharma. The sage’s son then described what he witnessed: “The messengers move swiftly, seizing and striking those brought before them. With mighty force, they bind the souls, burning them with intense power. Their blows fall heavy—bamboo rods and even harsher weapons rain down. The tormented cry out in terrible anguish, but none come to save them. Some are cast into fire, burned as fuel; others, ruined by their own evil nature, fall here and there, suffering the consequences of their deeds. Some are placed in dreadful machines, crushed like sesame seeds.” “Then arises the fearsome river Vaitarani, flowing downward—a terror to behold. Others are impaled upon spikes, seized by their feet by the relentless messengers. In the river’s chilling, bloodied waters, they are overwhelmed by froth and slime, unable to cross, raised up and twisted helplessly. There, the sinful, burdened by every fault, wither away.” “Many others, surrounded by countless messengers, are struck repeatedly by swords and spears. There dwell Kushmandas and Yatudhanas, hanging and terrifying. Tormented by pain, the souls scramble up the branches of trees, only to be attacked by fierce Rakshasas—devourers of flesh—who slay those who climb. The bodies are struck without mercy, shrouded in darkness.” “It is as if an outcast devours a rooster, scorned by all, or as a man eats ripe mangoes in the forest. After being sucked dry, they remain in that city of suffering. Those in the forest, swift of movement, are again seized and drained. Below, the wicked look on, crying out, ‘O Lord, protect us, release us!’—their pleas directed to any who might hear.” “Some, fleeing, are pelted with showers of stones and dust, yet again are pursued and struck by the relentless messengers. Then appears a pot filled with water, and again cool water is offered—yet, when they drink, it transforms into scalding hot water. Some, overcome by sorrow, embrace one another and collapse together.” “Of food, the most delicious and tempting are presented: curds, milk, juices, rice, and sweet porridge. Drinks of honey, liquor, and jasmine rice are set before them, yet these too become instruments of torment.” Thus was revealed, in unflinching detail, the journey and fate of souls in the realm of the departed, as witnessed and faithfully recounted.