The divine set (16.1–3) runs to some twenty-six qualities and needs no gloss beyond noticing its balance — it weds inner virtues (fearlessness, purity, serenity) to outer ones (charity, non-violence, gentleness), and strength (vigour, fortitude) to softness (modesty, compassion). The demonic set is defined first in miniature (16.4 — hypocrisy, arrogance, self-conceit, anger, harshness, ignorance) and then unfolded at length (16.7–18). Its essence is diagnosed at 16.7: “the demonic know not what is to be done nor what is to be refrained from” — they have lost the very compass of pravṛtti and nivṛtti. From this root failure grow their marks: they deny truth and God (16.8), do fierce deeds for the world’s ruin (16.9), are bound by insatiable hope and driven by lust and anger (16.10–12), hoard wealth by any means (16.13), deify themselves (16.14), and perform even worship as hollow show (16.17). The contrast is not between two tribes of people but between two tendencies alive in every heart — for the guṇas of canto 14 are the soil of both.

K ventriloquises the demonic monologue with devastating exactness (16.11–15): bound by a hundred cords of hope, devoted to lust and anger, they amass wealth by unjust means to gratify desire — “this I have gained today; this wish I shall now fulfil; this wealth is mine, and more shall be; that foe I have slain, and others too I shall slay; I am the lord, the enjoyer, successful, mighty, happy; I am rich and high-born — who is my equal? I shall sacrifice, I shall give, I shall rejoice.” It is the interior voice of the swollen ego (the kāma of 3.37 at full volume), narrated so that we may catch it in ourselves. Every clause is an “I”, a “mine”, a grasping. The demonic is not primarily cruelty; it is inflation — the ego mistaking itself for the centre and measure of all things.