Nandivardhana (नन्दिवर्धन)

छट्टुस्स उक्खेवो ।

The introduction of the sixth chapter — understand it as the same as the first chapter's opening.

This brief sutra functions as a formal chapter marker, indicating that the opening of the sixth teaching follows the same structural pattern established in Chapter One. In the Vipaak Sutra's oral tradition, each chapter maintains a standardized beginning — the formal invocation, the narrative context, and the entry of Bhagavan Mahavir and Gautam Swami. Rather than repeating the full formula, the text refers back to the first chapter as the model. This brevity is itself an expression of the Agamic literary style: economy without loss of completeness. The word *ukkheya* (upakrama) means both "beginning" and "lifting up" — an elevation into the sacred teaching that follows. Think of it like the opening of a familiar story that everyone already knows by heart: instead of reading it out loud again, you simply say "it begins the same way as before." The Jain oral tradition trusted its listeners to hold the full opening in memory and simply receive the signal. This respect for the listener's understanding is part of what makes the Agamic style unique — extreme economy in structure, immense depth in meaning. Each of these ten chapters begins the same way because they all share the same fundamental structure: a question from Gautam Swami about a suffering person, and an answer from Bhagavan Mahavir revealing the karmic chain behind that suffering.

The simple version: This is simply saying: "Chapter Six begins the same way Chapter One did — let that be understood."

एवं खलु जंबू ! तेणं कालेणं तेणं समएणं महुरा णामं णयरी होत्था । भंडीरे उज्जाणे । सुदंसणे जक्खे । सिरिदामे राया । बंधुसिरी भारिया । पुत्ते णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे, अहीण पडिपुण्ण पंचिंदियसरीरे जाव जुवराया ।

Indeed, O Jambu! At that time and in that era, there was a city called Mathura, with a garden named Bhandira, a yaksha shrine called Sudarshan, a king named Shreedama, a queen named Bandhushri, and their son Prince Nandivardhana — endowed with complete and perfect fivefold sense faculties — who had been appointed crown prince.

The sutra opens by establishing Mathura — one of the great ancient cities of India and a place frequently named in the Agamas as a center of dharmic activity. The Bhandira garden outside the city was a well-known assembly ground where teachers would gather their students. The mention of the Sudarshan yaksha shrine locates us in the religious geography of the time — local protective deities were a normal part of civic life in ancient India. King Shreedama is described as a righteous ruler, and his queen Bandhushri ("friend-beauty") befits the royal household. Their son Nandivardhana — "one who increases joy and prosperity" — is described in the standard Agamic phrase as having a body with complete and flawless sense faculties: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching — all fully developed. That he had already been crowned crown prince signals that the kingdom was rightfully his destiny. He did not need to seize anything — the throne was already being given to him. Yet the narrative that follows shows how impatience and greed could make even a destined prince commit the worst of crimes. This is the tragedy at the heart of the chapter: Nandivardhana already had everything, but could not wait for it to be handed over naturally. The soul that carries the karma of cruelty from a previous life often cannot wait — it acts, and in acting, deepens its own debt. Who is telling this? Sudharmaswami is transmitting it to Jambu — the chain of transmission that carries these stories down to us today across more than 2,500 years.

The simple version: In the ancient city of Mathura, King Shreedama ruled with his queen Bandhushri; their son Nandivardhana — healthy, handsome, and fully capable — had already been named as the next king.

तस्स सिरिदामस्स सुबंधु णामं अमच्चे होत्था । साम-दंड-भेय उवप्पयाण णीइकुसले, सुपउत्त णयविहण्णू । तस्स णं सुबंधुस्स अमच्चस्स बहुमित्तापुत्ते णामं दारए होत्था, अहीणपडिपुण्णपंचिंदियसरीरे, वण्णओ । तस्स णं सिरिदामस्स रण्णो चित्ते णामं अलंकारिए होत्था । सिरिदामस्स रण्णो चित्ते बहुविहं अलंकारियकम्मं करेमाणे सव्वट्टाणेसु य सव्वभूमियासु य, अंतेउरे य, दिण्णियारे य याविं होत्था ।

King Shreedama had a minister named Subandhu, skilled in the four royal policies of conciliation, punishment, division, and gift-giving, and expert in statecraft; Subandhu's minister-son was named Bahumittraputra, of perfect physical form. King Shreedama also had a royal barber named Chitra, who performed diverse grooming services and had unrestricted access to all royal chambers, quarters, and the inner palace at all times.

The sutra introduces two key figures whose roles will determine the narrative's outcome: the minister Subandhu and the royal barber Chitra. Subandhu is described with a classic fourfold political framework derived from ancient Indian statecraft — the use of gentle words (sāma), force (daṇḍa), creating divisions among enemies (bheda), and offering gifts (upapradāna). This characterization marks him as a sophisticated political operative who knows every tool of managing people and situations. More significant for the story is Chitra the barber. In ancient royal courts, the royal barber held a uniquely intimate position — performing grooming services for the king's person, attending to his beard and hair, and therefore having physical proximity to the king that almost no one else had. When the king closed his eyes to be shaved, the only person in the room holding a blade was the barber. This was total trust. Chitra's unrestricted access to every part of the palace — including the inner women's quarters — made him the perfect instrument for a conspiracy. It is precisely this trust that Nandivardhana sought to exploit. The sutra is setting up the tools of the coming crime before the crime happens — Jain narrative often works this way, establishing the pieces on the board so you understand exactly why the outcome was possible. A minister with access to power, a barber with access to the king's throat — and a prince burning with impatience. What could go wrong?

The simple version: King Shreedama had a wise minister named Subandhu and a trusted royal barber named Chitra — who could go anywhere in the palace, even the private royal chambers.

तेणं कालेणं तेणं समएणं सामी समोसढे । परिसा णिग्गया, राया णिग्गओ जाव परिसा पडिगया ।

At that time and in that era, the Lord arrived and descended there; the assembly went forth, the king went forth, and — up to — the assembly returned.

This is a condensed sutra using the Agamic convention of "jāva" (up to / yāvat) to abbreviate a well-known sequence. The full scene — Bhagavan Mahavir's divine assembly (samavasaraṇa) descending in or near Mathura, the announcement going through the city, the great congregation of monks, nuns, laypeople, and royalty going out to hear the teaching, the king paying his respects — is understood by the reader familiar with the Agamic format. The text does not repeat what is standard; it signals it with shorthand. Imagine a reporter writing "the usual ceremony took place" to describe a grand event that everyone in the room already knows the details of — that is exactly what *jāva* does here. The fact that Bhagavan was in Mathura at precisely the moment of Nandivardhana's brutal punishment is the narrative's crucial turning point. Without an omniscient teacher present, what Gautam would have seen in the next sutra would have remained a mystery — just another man being tortured in a public square, with no context and no meaning. The presence of Bhagavan transforms the observed spectacle into a complete teaching. It is the Lord's omniscient knowledge that makes the invisible — past lives, karmic chains, future destinies — fully visible and understandable. This sutra in its brevity is actually saying something profound: the whole sacred context of this teaching is already in place.

The simple version: At that very time, Bhagavan Mahavir arrived in Mathura and gave a teaching — people came to hear him, and then returned home.

तेणं कालेणं तेणं समएणं समणस्स भगवओ महावीरस्स जेट्ठे अंतेवासी जाव रायमग्गमोगाढे तहेव हत्थी, आसे, पुरिसे पासइ । तेसिं च पुरिसाणं मज्झगयं एगं पुरिसं पासइ जाव णरणारिसंपरिवुडं । तए णं तं पुरिसं रायपुरिसा चच्चरंसि तत्तसि अयोमयंसि समजोइभूयंसि सिंहासणंसि णिवेसावंति । तयाणंतरं च णं पुरिसाणं मज्झगयं पुरिसं बहुविह अयकलसेहिं तत्तेहिं समजोएभूएहिं, अप्पेगइया तंबरिएहिं, अप्पेगइया तउयरिएहिं, अप्पेगइया सीसगरिएहिं, अप्पेगइया कलकलरिएहिं, अप्पेगइया खारतेल्लरिएहिं, महया महया रायाभिसेएणं अभिसिंचंति । तयाणंतरं च णं ततं अयोमयं समजोइभूयं अयोमयसंडासएणं गहाय हारं पिणद्धंति । तयाणंतरं च णं अद्धहारं पिणद्धंति, तिसिरियं पिणद्धंति, पालंबं पिणद्धंति, कडिसुत्तयं पिणद्धंति, पट्टुं पिणद्धंति, मउडं पिणद्धंति ।
चिंता तहेव जाव वागरेइ ।

At that time and in that era, the chief disciple of Bhagavan Mahavir, while traveling along the royal road for alms, saw elephants, horses, and people; among the crowd of people he saw one man surrounded by men and women; royal soldiers then seated that man on a blazing iron throne glowing red like fire in the city square; and thereafter they poured over him, in the manner of a great royal coronation, iron vessels filled with various heated fluids — some filled with molten copper, some with tin, some with lead, some with boiling water, some with caustic hot oil — and then, using iron tongs, placed on him a red-hot iron necklace, a half-necklace, a three-strand ornament, a long pendant garland, a waist-cord, a chest-plate, and a crown.

This sutra depicts one of the most haunting scenes in the entire Vipaak Sutra: a man being "crowned" not with jewels and sandalwood paste, but with boiling metals and caustic oil, while seated on a throne of white-hot iron. The grotesque parody of a royal coronation — where every liquid poured is a burning punishment and every ornament placed is a brand of scorching iron — is a deliberate and calculated execution method. The punishment fits the crime in a dark symbolic way: Nandivardhana wanted the throne so desperately that he was willing to commit patricide, so he is given the throne — but made of fire. Every ornament of royalty — necklace, crown, waist-cord — is replicated in searing metal. This is not random cruelty by the king; it is a judicial punishment precisely echoing the crime of ambition. This scene is what stops Gautam Swami in his tracks. Having seen the visions of hell repeatedly through the Lord's teachings, Gautam recognizes the pattern: this man is not simply a criminal. He is a soul experiencing the fruit of something specific and deep. His spiritual training gives him eyes to see what others in the crowd cannot — not just a man being punished, but a karmic story unfolding in visible form. The phrase "the reflection arises as before" (ciṃtā taheva) refers to the standard moment in each chapter where Gautam, moved by what he sees, resolves to ask Bhagavan the truth behind the spectacle. This is what a spiritually trained observer does: does not look away, does not simply feel pity, but asks — why?

The simple version: Gautam Swami, while walking through Mathura, saw a man being tortured in a horrifying mock-coronation — seated on a red-hot iron throne and "crowned" with burning metal ornaments — and decided to ask Bhagavan Mahavir why this was happening to him.

एवं खलु गोयमा ! तेणं कालेणं तेणं समएणं इहेव जंबुद्दीवे दीवे भारहे वासे सीहपुरे णामं णयरे होत्था । रिद्धिथिमियसमिद्धे, वण्णओ । तत्थ णं सीहपुरे णयरे सीहरहे णामं राया होत्था । तस्स णं सीहरहस्स रण्णो दुज्जोहणे णामं चारगपालए होत्था, अहम्मिए जाव दुप्पडियाणंदे ।

Thus, O Gautam! At that time and in that era, here on this very continent of Jambudvipa, in the land of Bharata, there was a city named Sinhapur — prosperous, stable, and affluent; in that city of Sinhapur, a king named Sinharatha ruled; and that king Sinharatha had a prison warden named Durjodhan — who was irreligious, and who took pleasure in causing others' misery.

Bhagavan now reveals the past life that set the karmic trajectory in motion. This is the moment the chapter has been building toward: the answer to why the man on the burning throne is suffering. The soul now manifested as Nandivardhana was previously born as Durjodhan — a prison warden in the wealthy city of Sinhapur. The character of Durjodhan is sketched in two devastating words: *ahammie* (without dharma, without moral order) and *duppraḍiyānaṃde* (one who takes pleasure in the suffering of others). The first means he had abandoned all inner moral compass. The second means he was not just doing a brutal job reluctantly — he genuinely enjoyed it. This last quality is among the most spiritually destructive tendencies a soul can harbor — not merely causing harm from necessity or greed, but actively delighting in cruelty. A prison warden who enjoys the pain of prisoners is not simply doing a job; he is feeding his soul on violence, and every moment of that enjoyment is a fresh karmic accumulation. In Jain philosophy, the intensity of karma bound to the soul depends not just on what you do, but on how deeply you identify with it and whether you feel pleasure in it. Durjodhan was completely identified with his cruelty and took genuine pleasure in it — and that inner attitude is precisely what makes his karmic debt so profound.

The simple version: The man being tortured was previously born as Durjodhan, a prison warden in the city of Sinhapur, who had no religion in his heart and actually enjoyed making prisoners suffer.

तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालगस्स इमेयारूवे चारगभंडे होत्था– बहवे अयकुंडीओ अप्पेगइयाओ तंबरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ तउयरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ सीसगरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ कलकलरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ खारतेल्लरिएओ– अणिगिकायंसि अद्धियाओ चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालगस्स बहवे उट्टियाओ– अप्पेगइयाओ आसमुत्तरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ हत्थिमुत्तरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ गोमुत्तरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ महिसमुत्तरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ उट्टुमुत्तरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ अयमुत्तरिएओ, अप्पेगइयाओ एलमुत्तरिएओ बहुपडिपुण्णाओ चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे हत्थंडुयाण य पायंडुयाण य हडीण य णियलाण य संकलाण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे वेणुलयाण य वेत्तलयाण य चिंचालयाण य छियाण य कसाण य वायरासीण य पुंजा णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स–चारगपालस्स बहवे सिलाण य लउडाण य मोगराण य कणंगराण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे तंतीण य वरत्ताण य वागरञ्जूण य वालयसुत्तरञ्जूण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे असिपत्ताण य करपत्ताण य खुरपत्ताण य कलंबचीरपत्ताण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे लोहखीलाण य कडगसक्कराण य चम्मपट्टाण य अल्लपट्टाण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे सूईण य डंभणाण य कोट्टिल्लाण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।
तस्स णं दुज्जोहणस्स चारगपालस्स बहवे सत्थाण य पिप्पलाण य कुहाडाण य णहच्छेयणाण य दभइयाण य पुंजा य णिगरा य सण्णिखित्ता चिट्टुंति ।

The prison warden Durjodhan possessed the following prison equipment: many iron cauldrons — some filled with molten copper, some with molten tin, some with molten lead, some with violently boiling water, some with caustic scalding oil — all placed constantly on fire; large clay pots filled with the urine of horses, elephants, cows, buffaloes, camels, goats, and sheep; heaps and stocks of hand shackles, foot shackles, wooden stocks, iron fetters, and iron chains; heaps of bamboo rods, rattan rods, jamboline-wood rods, leather whips, ordinary whips, and bark whips; heaps of stones, wooden clubs, iron hammers, and stone mallets; heaps of leather ropes, ordinary ropes, bark-fiber ropes, and hair ropes; heaps of sword-leaf blades, saw-blades, razor-blades, and kadambachira cutting weapons; heaps of iron nails, iron thorns, dried leather strips, and fresh leather strips; heaps of needles, pricking instruments, and hooked pointed tools; heaps of spears, axes, hatchets, nail-cutters, and sharp-tipped grass-knife instruments.

This sutra presents an exhaustive inventory of Durjodhan's prison arsenal, and its very exhaustiveness is the point. The Agama does not list all these implements to be gratuitous — it does so to establish the sheer systematic comprehensiveness of Durjodhan's cruelty. He did not merely have a stick and a chain; he had an entire apparatus of suffering, organized by category: metals for burning, animal wastes for degradation, restraints for immobilization, rods and whips for beating, stones and hammers for crushing, ropes for binding and suspending, blades for cutting, nails and needles for piercing, and axes and spears for more extreme mutilations. The cauldrons kept on constant fire — always ready, never cooling — speak to a warden who did not wait for crimes to be brought to him. He maintained a permanent infrastructure of pain. Think of the difference between a prison guard who locks a cell and one who builds a torture chamber and keeps every instrument sharpened and heated. The second person has not just committed acts of violence — they have built a system of violence and dedicated their life to maintaining it. From a karmic standpoint in Jain philosophy, the construction, maintenance, and active use of each of these instruments constituted a continuous act of violence — binding layer upon layer of suffering karma onto the soul of Durjodhan with every passing day. The sutra is also telling us something about the nature of evil: it does not spring up suddenly but is organized, maintained, and perfected over time. Evil, like goodness, requires work.

The simple version: Durjodhan's prison was stocked with every possible tool of torture — burning vats, urine pots, chains, whips, knives, needles, and axes — all kept ready at all times, like a factory of suffering.

तए णं से दुज्जोहणे चारगपाले सीहरहस्स रण्णो बहवे चोरे य पारदारिए य गंठिभेए य रायावकारी य अणहारए य बालघायए य विस्संभघायए य जूयगरे य खंडपट्टे य पुरिसेहिं गिण्हावेइ, गिण्हावित्ता उत्ताणए पाडेइ, पाडेत्ता लोहदंडेणं मुहं विहाडेइ, विहाडित्ता अप्पेगइए तत्ततंबं पज्जेइ, अप्पेगइए तउयं पज्जेइ, अप्पेगइए सीसगं पज्जेइ, अप्पेगइए कलकलं पज्जेइ, अप्पेगइए खारतेल्लं पज्जेइ, अप्पेगइयाणं तेणं चेव अभिसेयगं करेइ ।
अप्पेगइए उत्ताणए पाडेइ, पाडित्ता आसमुत्तं पज्जेइ, अप्पेगइए हत्थिमुत्तं पज्जेइ जाव अप्पेगइए एलमुत्तं पज्जेइ ।
अप्पेगइए हेट्टामुहे पाडेइ, छडछडस्स वम्मावेइ, वम्मावित्ता अप्पेगइए तेणं चेव ओवीलें दलयइ ।
अप्पेगइए हत्थंडुयाइं बंधावेइ, अप्पेगइए पायंडुए बंधावेइ, अप्पेगइए हडिबंधणं करेइ, अप्पेगइए णियडबंधणं करेइ, अप्पेगइए संकोडियमोडियं करेइ, अप्पेगइए संकलबंधणं करेइ ।
अप्पेगइए हत्थछिण्णए करेइ जाव सत्थोवाडियं करेइ, अप्पेगइए वेणुलयाहिं जाव वायरासीहिं हणावेइ ।
अप्पेगइए उत्ताणए कारवेइ, कारेत्ता उरे सिलं दलावेइ, तओ लउडं छुहावेइ, छुहावित्ता पुरिसेहिं उक्कंपावेइ । अप्पेगइए तंतीहिं य जाव सुत्तरञ्जुहिं य हत्थेसु य पासु य बंधावेइ, अगडंसि ओचूलयालगं पञ्जेइ, अप्पेगइए असिपत्तेहिं य जाव कलंबचीरपत्तेहिं य पच्छावेइ, पच्छावेत्ता खारतेल्लेणं अंछिभगावेइ ।
अप्पेगइए णिडालेसु य अवदुसु य कोप्परेसु य जाणुसु य खलुएसु य लोहकीलए य कडसक्कराओ य दवावेइ, अलिए भंजावेइ ।
अप्पेगइए सूईओ डुंभणाणि य हत्थंगुलियासु य पायंगुलियासु य कोट्टिल्लएहिं य आउडावेइ, आउडावेत्ता भूमिं कंडूयावेइ ।
अप्पेगइए सत्थेहिं य जाव णहच्छेयणेहिं य अंगं पच्छावेइ, दभेहिं य कुसेहिं य ओल्लवद्धिहिं य वेढावेइ, वेढावेत्ता आयवंसि दलयइ, दलइत्ता सुक्के समाणे चडचडस्स उप्पावेइ ।

Then the prison warden Durjodhan would have seized by royal soldiers: thieves, adulterers, burglars, rebels against the king, tax-evaders, child-killers, traitors, gamblers, and corrupt persons; after seizing them he would throw them face up, then pry open their mouths with an iron rod, and pour into some molten copper, into some molten tin, into some molten lead, into some violently boiling water, into some caustic oil, and bathe some with these same fluids; he would throw some face up and force-feed them horse urine — and likewise elephant, cow, buffalo, camel, goat, and sheep urine; he would throw some face down and cause violent vomiting, then crush them with the same fluid; he would shackle some with hand restraints, some with foot restraints, some with wooden stocks, some with iron fetters, some contorted and twisted, some in iron chains; he would cut off some's hands, and cause others to be struck with bamboo rods through to bark whips; he would lay some face up and place stones and wood on their chests, then thrust clubs beneath them and have soldiers shake them causing bones to break; he would bind some's hands and feet with leather ropes through to cotton ropes and hurl them into wells; he would flay some with sword-leaf blades through to kadambachira weapons and then rub caustic oil into their wounds; he would drive iron nails and iron thorns into foreheads, shoulders, elbows, knees, and ankles, and break the body's joints; he would drive needles and pointed instruments into the fingers and toes, then dig the earth with hooked tools; he would skin some with swords and nail-cutters, wrap them in sharp grass and wet leather, then place them in the sun — and when the leather dried and tightened, it would crack them open with a cracking sound.

This sutra is among the most disturbing passages in the Vipaak Sutra, and its inclusion in sacred scripture carries a deliberate pedagogical purpose. The Jain tradition does not look away from the consequences of evil — it describes them fully so that the reader understands what accumulating this karma truly means, both for the victim and for the person doing it. By cataloguing each method of Durjodhan's torture in such clinical detail, the text forces the reader to confront what cruelty truly looks like when it is systematized by someone who has chosen it as a way of life. Among the most disturbing elements: the victims include not only criminals but people who failed to pay taxes — revealing that the judicial system of the time could deliver anyone to this warden's hands. Innocence did not protect you once you were in Durjodhan's power. The methods escalate in sophistication: from pouring burning metal to humiliation through animal waste, to the gruesome sunlight-and-leather technique at the end, where wet leather is wrapped around the prisoner and when it dries and contracts in the sun, it tears the skin with an audible cracking sound. The scientific precision of the final method — using natural physical processes to inflict maximum damage — shows that this was not improvised cruelty but expert cruelty. Each act Durjodhan committed was a fresh accumulation of karma. And yet the sutra makes clear: he did this as his chosen identity, finding in it not reluctance but genuine satisfaction. In Jain terms, this is what makes the karma so severe — it was done with full intentionality and full enjoyment, both of which amplify karmic weight dramatically.

The simple version: Durjodhan carried out unimaginably brutal torture on prisoners — burning them, choking them, crushing them, flaying them alive — and did all of this day after day as his normal job.

तए णं से दुज्जोहणे चारगपाले एयकम्मे एयप्पहाणे एयविज्जे एयसमायारे सुबहुं पावकम्मं समज्जिणित्ता एगतीसं वाससयाइं परमाउयं पालित्ता कालमासे कालं किच्चा छट्टीए पुढवीए उक्कोसेणं बावीससागरोवमं ट्ठितिएसु णेरइएसु णेरइयत्ताए उवण्णे ।

Then the prison warden Durjodhan, having made this very activity his sole occupation, his supreme purpose, his only expertise, and his constant practice — and having accumulated an enormous mass of evil karma — after completing his maximum lifespan of three hundred and ten years, died at the time of death and was born as a hell-being among the hell-beings of the sixth hell, with a maximum duration of twenty-two ocean-measure periods.

The sutra's four parallel phrases — his sole work, his supreme purpose, his only expertise, his constant conduct — form a devastating portrait of complete spiritual captivity. Durjodhan did not torture occasionally, or reluctantly, or even professionally while maintaining some inner distance. He *was* this work. His entire identity, skill, attention, and daily life were consumed by the act of causing pain. There was no other Durjodhan outside the prison — the prison was his whole world, and cruelty was his whole self. In Jain karmic philosophy, the intensity of karma bound to the soul depends not only on what one does, but on the degree of intentionality, delight, and repetition. Durjodhan combined all three perfectly: he chose this, he enjoyed it, and he did it every day for 310 years. The result is the sixth hell — the second-deepest of the seven hells — with a maximum term of twenty-two sagaropam. A sagaropam is a time-unit so vast that it can only be understood through cosmic imagery: imagine an ocean being emptied one drop every hundred years. Twenty-two of those vast cycles in the sixth hell means suffering of a scope the human mind genuinely cannot comprehend. And yet the mathematics of karma are exact and impersonal: what was systematically done to others is now systematically experienced by the self. The iron cauldrons Durjodhan kept heating are now part of his own experience in hell. This is not revenge — it is law.

The simple version: Because Durjodhan spent his entire life of 310 years torturing people and delighting in their pain, he was reborn into the sixth level of hell — one of the deepest — where he suffered for twenty-two unimaginably long cosmic time periods.

से णं तओ अणंतरं उव्वट्टित्ता इहेव महुराए णगरीए सिरिदामस्स रण्णो बंधुसिरीए देवीए कुंछिसि पुत्ताए उववण्णे । तए णं बंधुसिरि णवण्हं मासाणं बहुपडिपुण्णाणं जाव दारगं पयाया । तए णं तस्स दारगस्स अम्मापियरो णिच्छत्ते बारसाहे इमं एयारूवं णामधेज्जं करेंति-होउ णं अम्हं दारगे णंदिवद्धणे णामेणं ।
तए णं से णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे पंचधाईपरिवुडे जाव परिवट्टुइ । तए णं से णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे उम्मुक्कबालभावे विण्णायपरिणयमेत्ते जोव्वणगमणुप्पत्ते विहरइ जाव जुवराया जाए याविं होत्था ।
तए णं से णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे रज्जे य जाव अंतेउरे य मुच्छिए इच्छइ सिरिदामं रायं जीवियाओ वओरोवेत्ता सयमेव रज्जसिरिं कारेमाणे पालेमाणे विहरित्तए । तए णं से णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे सिरिदामस्स रण्णो बहूणि अंतराणि य छिद्राणि य विरहाणि य (विवराणि) य पिंडजागरमाणे विहरइ ।

Immediately after passing from that existence, he was reborn in the womb of Queen Bandhushri, the wife of King Shreedama, right here in the city of Mathura, as a son; after nine months were fully complete, Bandhushri gave birth to the child; on the twelfth day of the birth ceremony, the parents gave the child the name Nandivardhana; Prince Nandivardhana grew up cared for by five wet nurses; he passed through childhood, attained full education, and reached youth — and was appointed as crown prince; then Nandivardhana, obsessed with the kingdom and the inner palace, desired to kill King Shreedama and rule the kingdom himself; and he began constantly watching for opportunities, weaknesses, and moments when the king was alone and vulnerable.

After the incomprehensible suffering of the sixth hell, the soul emerges and takes birth — not in some distant land, but right back in Mathura, in the very royal household as the king's own son. This is the Agamic teaching on the continuity of karmic consequence: the soul carries its unresolved desires and deep impressions from life to life. The soul that was Durjodhan — who wielded absolute power over helpless prisoners — is now reborn with the compulsion toward power still burning inside it. As Nandivardhana, he grows up in comfort, receives education, is given the title of crown prince, and yet cannot wait. The kingdom was already being given to him — his father was aging, the throne was his by right — but the karmic residue of impatience and the hunger for absolute control drives him to plan murder anyway. The deeper tragedy is embedded in the name itself: "Nandivardhana" means "one who increases joy and prosperity" — and yet this very person was actively working to destroy the source of his family's joy. This irony between name and action is a quiet but powerful teaching: our names, our outer appearance, our apparent social position — none of these reveal the karmic reality of who we are inside. The description of him "watching like a hunter" for moments when his father would be alone and vulnerable is chilling. The soul that once ran a prison, watching for helpless prisoners to torment, now watches for an aging father to betray. The outer circumstance has changed completely; the inner orientation has barely moved.

The simple version: After his punishment in hell, Durjodhan's soul was reborn as Nandivardhana, the prince of Mathura — but the same inner greed for power drove him to secretly plot his own father's murder.

तए णं से णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे सिरिदामस्स रण्णो अंतरं अलभमाणे अण्णया कयाइ चित्तं अलंकारियं सद्धावेइ, सद्धावेत्ता एवं वयासी– तुम्हे णं देवाणुप्पिया ! सिरिदामस्स रण्णो सव्वट्टाणेसु य सव्वभूमिया य अंतेउरे य दिण्णियारे य सिरिदामस्स रण्णो अभिकखणं अभिकखणं अलंकारियं कम्मं करेमाणे विहरसि । तं णं तुमं देवाणुप्पिया ! सिरिदामस्स रण्णो अलंकारियं कम्मं करेमाणे गीवाए खुरं णिवेसेहि ।
तो णं अहं तुम्हं अद्धरज्जयं करिस्सामि । तुमं अम्हेहिं सद्धिं उरालाइं भोगभोगाइं भुंजमाणे विहरिस्ससि ।
तए णं से चित्ते अलंकारिए णंदिवद्धणस्स कुमारस्स एयमट्टुं पडिसुणेइ ।

Then Prince Nandivardhana, finding no opportunity to reach the king alone, one day summoned the royal barber Chitra and spoke to him thus: "O dear Chitra! You have been given free access to all of King Shreedama's rooms, chambers, inner quarters, and grounds, and you attend on the king continuously and repeatedly in your barber's duties. So, O dear one! While performing your barber's service on King Shreedama, place the razor upon his throat." "And then I shall give you half the kingdom. You shall live with us enjoying the finest pleasures." And Chitra the barber heard this proposal from Prince Nandivardhana and agreed to it.

This sutra reveals the moral abyss into which Nandivardhana had descended. Unable to find a natural opportunity to reach his own father alone, he turned to the one person with the most intimate access to the king's body: the royal barber. The barber's razor, used in a moment of complete trust — when the king's throat is exposed, his eyes are closed, and he is entirely at peace — would be the perfect murder weapon. The prince offered half the kingdom for this single act, clothing his conspiracy in generous terms. The barber Chitra's agreement is understandable from a very human perspective — the temptation of half a kingdom was enormous, perhaps more than most people could resist. Yet what the story highlights is something deeper: Chitra was being asked to take the deepest possible trust — the trust of a man who lets you hold a blade to his throat — and convert it into an instrument of murder. The razor that served the king's appearance was to become the knife of his death. In Jain ethics, those who arrange for others to commit harm accumulate karma just as directly as those who physically carry it out — the instigator and the agent share the karmic weight of the deed. Nandivardhana is not just planning a murder from a safe distance; by involving Chitra, he is binding Chitra's karma to his own crime as well. The web of consequence is already spreading before the act is even committed.

The simple version: Unable to get to his father alone, Nandivardhana secretly bribed the royal barber Chitra — who shaved the king every day — to cut the king's throat during a shaving session, promising him half the kingdom in return.

तए णं तस्स चित्तस्स अलंकारियस्स इमेयारूवे अज्झत्थिए जाव समुप्पज्जित्था जइ णं मम सिरिदामे राया एयमट्टुं आगमेइ, तए णं मम णं णज्जइ केणइ असुभेणं कुमारेणं मारिस्सइ त्ति कट्टु भीए जाव जेणेव सिरिदामे राया तेणेव उवागच्छइ, उवागच्छित्ता सिरिदामं रायं रहस्सियगं करयलपरिग्गहियं सिरसावत्तं मत्थए अंजलिं कट्टु एवं वयासी–
एवं खलु सामी ! णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे रज्जे य जाव अंतेउरे य मुच्छिए जाव अज्झोव्वण्णे इच्छइ तुब्भे जीवियाओ वओरोवित्ता सयमेव रज्जसिरिं कारेमाणे पालेमाणे विहरित्तए ।
तए णं से सिरिदामे राया चित्तस्स अलंकारियस्स एयमट्टुं सोच्चा णिसम्म आसुरुत्ते जाव णंदिसेणं कुमारं पुरिसेहिं गिण्हावेइ, गिण्हावित्ता ए एणं विहाणेणं वज्झं आणवेइ ।
तं एवं खलु गोयमा ! णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे पुरापोराणाणं जाव कम्माणं पावगं फलविट्टिविसेसं पच्चणुभवमाणे विहरइ ।

Then within the barber Chitra's mind arose this thought: "If King Shreedama were to come to know of this matter, he might have me killed by some cruel means on account of the prince" — and out of this fear, he went directly to where King Shreedama was; approaching the king, he took his hands together respectfully with his palms joined, bowed his head, and spoke thus in private: "O my Lord! Prince Nandivardhana, intoxicated with desire for the kingdom and the inner palace, wishes to take away your life and rule the kingdom himself." Upon hearing and fully grasping this report from the barber Chitra, King Shreedama was consumed with fury, and had Prince Nandivardhana seized by soldiers — and commanded that he be executed by the prescribed method. Thus, O Gautam! Prince Nandivardhana is experiencing the particular bitter fruit of ancient evil deeds.

The conspiracy's collapse comes not from a divine intervention or a miracle, but from an entirely ordinary human calculation: Chitra, who had agreed to murder out of greed, became afraid of what would happen to him if the plan was discovered. When he ran through the scenario in his own mind — the king finding out, the rage, the punishment aimed at him as the actual hand that held the razor — his self-preservation instinct overrode his greed. This is not dharma saving the king; it is one frightened person undoing another person's crime for entirely selfish reasons. Yet through this imperfect chain of human fear and self-interest, justice arrives anyway. The king's fury at the report is total: he does not hold a formal trial or summon witnesses. He acts immediately. In Jain narrative terms, this too is part of the karmic pattern — the king who had unwittingly raised a soul carrying Durjodhan's karma is now the instrument through which that karma ripens into its visible consequence. The "prescribed method" of execution — the mock coronation with boiling metals that Gautam witnessed in the public square — is thus the sentence carried out, completing the circle that began with the chapter's opening scene. Bhagavan's final statement to Gautam seals the theological meaning: this is not arbitrary royal cruelty or bad luck. This is the precise, natural ripening of ancient karma — the karma of Durjodhan, who once presided over burning iron thrones and boiling vats, now experiencing them himself from the other side of the throne.

The simple version: The barber Chitra got scared and told the king everything. King Shreedama, furious, had his own son Nandivardhana arrested and condemned to the very kind of torture that Nandivardhana's past-life self had inflicted on others.

णंदिवद्धणे णं भंते ! कुमारे इओ चुए कालमासे कालं किच्चा किहं गच्छिहिइ ? किहं उवव्वजिहिइ ?
गोयमा ! णंदिवद्धणे कुमारे सट्ठिवासाइं परमाउयं पालित्ता कालमासे कालं किच्चा इमीसे रयणप्पभाए पुढवीए जाव संसारो तहेव ।
तओ हत्थिणाउरे णयरे मच्छत्ताए उवव्वजिहिइ । से णं तत्थ मच्छिएहिं विहिए समाणे तत्थेव सेट्टिकुले पुत्ताए पच्चायाहिइ । बोहिं, सोहम्मे कप्पे, महाविदेहवासे सिज्झिहिइ जाव सव्वदुक्खाणमंतं करेहिइ ।
णिक्खेवो जहा पढमस्स ।

"O Bhagavan! When Prince Nandivardhana dies here and passes at the time of death, where will he go? Where will he be reborn?" "O Gautam! Prince Nandivardhana, having completed his maximum lifespan of sixty years, will die at the time of death and be born in the first hell-realm of Ratnaprabha" — and the cycle of wandering is as described before; thereafter he will be reborn as a fish in the city of Hastinapur; after being killed by fishermen there, he will be reborn as a son in a merchant's family in that same city; there he will attain awakening, be born in the Saudharma heaven, and will in the Mahavideh region attain liberation and bring all suffering to an end. The closing formula is as in the first chapter.

Gautam's question about the future is the final turning of the wheel in each chapter's narrative. He has heard the past — Durjodhan's cruelty, the sixth hell, Nandivardhana's plotted patricide, the mock coronation. Now he asks: what comes next? The answer Bhagavan gives is both sobering and ultimately hopeful. Even for Nandivardhana — a soul carrying the karma of Durjodhan's 310 years of systematic torture, and now having plotted to murder his own father — liberation is not permanently out of reach. The path is long: first the first hell (a lesser term than Durjodhan's sixth-hell sentence, because the karma accumulated in this life, while serious, is less than the lifetime of systematic organized torture), then wandering through many lower life forms, then rebirth as a fish in Hastinapur, then a violent death at the hands of fishermen. This fish-birth is not random: it mirrors the karmic principle of experiencing what you once organized. Durjodhan ran cauldrons full of burning liquid — now the soul experiences the violent end of being caught and killed as a smaller, more vulnerable creature. Then comes the decisive turn: a merchant family in Hastinapur provides the stability and dharmic environment needed for spiritual awakening. The merchant family provides the stability, resources, and exposure to right teaching needed for bodhi. After the awakening, the soul rises through the Saudharma heaven, takes a final human birth in the Mahavideh region — where a living liberated teacher is always present, unlike in our current time-era — and achieves final liberation. This is the Jain teaching: every soul's story ends in liberation. No darkness is permanent. The question is only how many turns of the wheel it takes to arrive.

The simple version: Bhagavan tells Gautam that after his current punishment is over, Nandivardhana will go through more difficult rebirths — including as a fish — but eventually, in a future human life, he will wake up spiritually, reach liberation, and be free from all suffering forever.