Most moral codes begin by forbidding the hand. Do not steal. Do not take what is not yours. Valluvar begins by forbidding the thought. The hand, he implies, is already too late — the crime was committed the instant the mind pictured another person's property as its own. This chapter is not about law enforcement or punishment; it is about the architecture of a corrupted mind. Valluvar constructs, across ten kurals, a portrait of what fraud does to the person who commits it — not to the victim, but to the thief. Stolen wealth swells like a tumor, then devours. The craving for fraud colonizes the heart the way virtue colonizes the heart of the wise — permanently, structurally, until no other tenant can live there. By the final couplet, the stakes have become existential: the fraudulent lose even their purchase on life itself, while those who refuse fraud inherit a world beyond this one. It is a chapter that treats dishonesty not as a lapse but as a terminal diagnosis.