Once again, the soul finds itself cast into a pit of dung, where it is tormented by a fire fueled with fat. Emerging from this ordeal, it faces seven kinds of torment within a span of three yojanas. The passage is arduous—crossing through burning agony, the soul becomes unconscious from suffering. Yet, after this trial, it reaches a beautiful pond, its waters cold and refreshing, surrounded by cool groves. Here, all the sinful beings are granted food and delicacies of every kind. But soon, the journey continues toward a mountain named Śūlavaha, towering a hundred yojanas high. Upon this mountain, rain-clouds pour down incessantly, but the water is scalding, inflicting further pain. Nearby lies the grove called Śṛṅgāraka, where lush green meadows stretch out. Yet, whoever is touched or bitten in this grove is transformed into a worm. After these torments, another punishment awaits, carefully prepared for the soul. The cries of mother, father, sons, wives, and loved ones echo—pleading again and again, “Alas! Save me, save me, O son!” The soul endures blows from fists and whips, and even serpents are placed upon its body. In this way, the consequences of one’s own actions are suffered repeatedly, each torment following the last. There are four primary sins, and conduct adds a fifth. With each new beginning, the soul enters a path shaped by another quality. Eventually, it is born among immobile beings, remaining so for sixty thousand and sixty hundred years. After its actions are exhausted, it becomes a being born from sweat once more. Then, it passes through all the species of birds again. When finally reborn as a human, it attains the status of a Śūdra; if satisfied, it remains so. From a Vaiśya, it may rise to the status of a Kṣatriya, and from there, become a Brāhmaṇa. If the mind is poorly trained, the soul becomes one who harms himself. Each birth is shaped by previous actions and utilized accordingly. Those who drink liquor, those with dark teeth and foul odor, and those who do evil—such as stealing gold, which is equal to killing a Brāhmaṇa—are all bound by the persistence of their actions. In these houses of departure, the entire surface of the earth is covered, and even the rivers have vanished. A great cry arises, filled with shouts of “ha-ha” and confusion. Blows from iron rods and fierce weapons rain down. The laborers and messengers, exhausted and overcome by delusion, struggle to fulfill their tasks. At such times, the messengers must report to the mighty Citragupta. Thus concludes the two-hundredth chapter of the Śrī Varāha Purāṇa, named “Description of the Nature of Hellish Torments in the Cycle of Samsara.” Now begins the account of the battle between the Rākṣasas and the attendants. All of them, united and always delighting in one another, prepare for conflict. The messengers declare, “We will perform another exceedingly difficult task for you, master.” Others, O virtuous one, may act as they wish in this matter. Then, with bloodshot eyes, enraged by these words, Citragupta observes a certain man nearby, formless in appearance. Driven by anger, the wise Citragupta emerges. Terrifying beings appear, assuming various forms and adorned with diverse ornaments, heralding the next stage of the unfolding drama.