Journey Of Hell | CH:40 (Lalabhaksa, The River of Shame)

My night in Vaishasan, the hell of hollow rituals, left me with a new kind of clarity. The path to salvation wasn’t about grand gestures; it was about the purity of the heart. My new resolve was not a shield against the pain, but it was a lens through which to understand it. I was no longer just a victim of this journey; I was a student of its terrible laws.

When Katha came, I was ready. The plunge into Maya’s soul was as violent as ever, but I met it with a grim acceptance.

The Yamduts dragged my soul from the blood-soaked courtyard of sacrifice. The landscape shifted again. We stood on the bank of another river, but this one was different from the Vaitarna. The air here was thick with a cloying, salty smell. The river itself was not filled with blood or pus, but with a thick, milky-white, viscous liquid that flowed sluggishly.

This was Lalabhaksa. The Hell where sinners are forced to consume semen.

“This Naraka,” a Yamdut’s voice echoed in my mind, its tone flat and devoid of emotion, “is for those men who, driven by uncontrolled lust, force their own wives to drink their seed.

It is for those who, in their arrogance, treat their partner not as a sacred equal, but as an object for the fulfillment of their own degrading desires.”

My soul recoiled in pure, visceral disgust. This was a sin so specific, so intimate in its violation, that I couldn’t comprehend it.

But I was forced to.

The Yamduts dragged me to the river’s edge. I was not a participant here, but a witness. They forced my soul to kneel, my face just inches from the foul, flowing river. “You will watch,” the Yamdut commanded. “You will understand the final destination of all selfish lust.”

They began to drag other souls forward. They were all men. On Earth, they might have been powerful CEOs, respected doctors, or quiet, unassuming neighbors. Here, their status was gone. They were just souls, stripped naked and trembling with terror.

One by one, the Yamduts would grab a soul, hold its head back, and with a horrifying, methodical cruelty, force the thick, white liquid from the river down its throat. The souls would gag, their spiritual bodies convulsing, but the Yamduts were relentless. They would beat the sinners on the head with iron clubs, forcing them to swallow, again and again.

With each soul’s torment, a vision flooded my consciousness.

Vision. I see a bedroom. A husband and wife. The husband, his face a mask of selfish desire, is forcing his wife to perform this degrading act. I feel her shame, her humiliation, her feeling of being less than human. I feel her silent tears.

Vision. Another bedroom. Another couple. The wife is refusing. The husband grows angry. He uses his strength, his power, to force her. The act is not one of love, but of violation. An assertion of dominance.

I understood then. This was not just about a physical act. It was about the ultimate disrespect. It was about treating a sacred partner as an object, a vessel for one’s own perverted desires. It was about the absolute corruption of the marital bond.

Index of: Journey Of Hell: The Unforgotten Promise

2 responses to “Journey Of Hell | CH:40 (Lalabhaksa, The River of Shame)”

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