In the cycle of birth and death, a soul takes on a human form and, according to the merits and actions of previous lives, is born into the status of a Śūdra. If he finds contentment in this state, he remains so. However, should his actions and merits increase, he rises from the station of a Vaiśya to that of a Kṣatriya, and from there, he may become a Brāhmaṇa. Yet, if his mind is poorly trained, he brings harm upon himself, suffering the consequences of his own making. Every person is born bearing the imprint of past deeds, and their life unfolds accordingly. Those who indulge in drinking liquor, whose teeth are darkened, whose bodies are foul-smelling, and who commit evil acts—such as stealing gold—are considered as sinful as those who kill a Brāhmaṇa. For as long as the effects of these actions endure, the soul wanders through the realms of departure, suffering the results. During these torments, the surface of the earth appears covered, and even the rivers seem to have vanished. A great cry rises up, filled with shouts of confusion and lamentation. The wicked are struck with iron rods and fierce weapons by laborers and messengers, who themselves become exhausted and bewildered by delusion. At such times, the messengers are instructed to report everything to the mighty Citragupta, the divine accountant of deeds. Thus concludes the two-hundredth chapter of the Śrī Varāha Purāṇa, describing the nature of hellish torments in the endless cycle of saṃsāra. Now, a new episode unfolds—the battle between the Rākṣasas and the attendants. United in purpose and delighting in one another’s company, the messengers address their master: "We shall perform another exceedingly difficult task for you, O Lord." Others, they add, may act as they see fit. At these words, anger flares in Citragupta’s eyes, turning them bloodshot. He notices a certain man nearby, formless and indistinct. Moved by wrath, the wise and mighty Citragupta emerges, surrounded by terrifying beings who take on many shapes and are adorned with various ornaments. Citragupta himself, strong-armed and ever mindful of the world’s welfare, stands at the center. The Rākṣasas, flesh-eating and of fearsome appearance, gather around. They wear armor made from bound iguana skins and wield a variety of weapons. Rejoicing, they cry out: "Command us swiftly, O Lord!" Hearing their words, Citragupta addresses them: "Ho, ho! Brave Mandehakas, guardians of my will! Slay and bind those who act against my commands, and return as before. Destroy these evildoers who defy my wishes." The Rākṣasas reply: "Only the ministers should be recognized as your servants, though they are countless in number. You yourself have marked these for destruction, O great-souled one. As these arise, they contemplate righteousness. Let there be no false promise from you, who are devoted to dharma. Rescue us, O hero, your mighty attendants." Having spoken thus, the terrible diseases—beings capable of assuming any form at will—appear, some mounted on elephants, others on horses, and still others on powerful chariots. Some ride deer, jackals, buffaloes, tigers, or sheep. Equipped with diverse vehicles and brandishing many weapons, they prepare for battle. The air resounds with the tumult of drums, trumpets, and the clamor of warriors. In that deep darkness, a fierce battle erupts. Severed heads, still adorned with earrings, illuminate the earth, bearing witness to the ferocity of the conflict.