In the age of Kali, when humanity trembled at the prospect of being consumed by the relentless serpent of time, the sacred scripture Śrīmad Bhāgavata was spoken by Kīra to dispel that fear. This scripture stands alone as the purifier of the mind; it is not easily obtained, but granted only to those who possess merit from previous births. Once, when King Parīkṣit was seated in a great assembly, eager to hear these divine stories, and the sage Śuka was present, the gods themselves gathered there, bearing a pot filled with nectar. They bowed reverently to Śuka and, with skill and devotion, implored him, “Please grant us the nectar of stories, for we have brought this nectar to offer you in exchange.” The arrangement was simple: the king would partake of the nectar, while the assembled gods would drink the nectar of Śrīmad Bhāgavatam’s stories. Yet, Śuka, also known as Brahmarāta, laughed at the gods after pondering the true nature of nectar, stories, glass, and the great jewel. He recognized those who lacked devotion and withheld the nectar of stories from them, for the tales of Śrīmad Bhāgavata are difficult to obtain—even for the gods. When the king attained liberation, even the creator Brahmā was astonished. In Satyaloka, the unborn weighed the means of liberation, and found that other works were minor compared to the gravity of this scripture. All the sages were filled with the highest wonder, regarding the Bhāgavata as the very form of the Lord. In Kali-yuga, simply by reading or hearing it, one immediately attains the fruit of Vaikuṇṭha. This scripture, heard within seven days, bestows liberation in every way. Long ago, the compassionate Sanaka and his brothers revealed it to Nārada. Although Nārada heard it from the divine sage due to his connection with Brahman, the method of hearing it over seven days was explained by the Kumāras. At this point, Śaunaka inquired, “How could Nārada, who is free from worldly ties and ever-moving, feel affection or form a connection with those present at the ritual?” Sūta replied, “Let me recount to you the narrative, imbued with devotion, which Śuka spoke to me in secret, considering me his disciple.” Once, in the city of Viśālā, four pure sages gathered for holy association, and there they saw Nārada. The Kumāras addressed him, “O Brāhmaṇa, why is your face downcast and your mind troubled? Where are you hastening to, and from where have you come? You seem empty-hearted, as if you have lost your wealth, like an ordinary man. This does not befit one free from attachment—please tell us the reason.” Nārada answered, “I have traveled the earth, thinking it to be the highest, visiting sacred places like Puṣkara, Prayāga, Kāśī, and the Godāvarī. I wandered among holy sites such as Harikṣetra, Kurukṣetra, Śrīraṅga, Setubandha, and others, moving here and there. Nowhere did I find happiness that satisfied the mind; the earth is afflicted by Kali, the friend of unrighteousness. Truth, austerity, purity, compassion, and charity have vanished. People live only to fill their bellies and speak deceitfully. They are dull, of poor understanding, unfortunate, and afflicted. The good are few, absorbed in hypocrisy, and even renunciants maintain households. Young women rule the household, brothers-in-law give counsel, daughters are sold out of greed, and discord arises between husband and wife. The āśramas and holy rivers are obstructed by foreigners, and many temples have been destroyed by the wicked. There is no yogī, nor any accomplished one, nor a wise man, nor a person of good conduct; in the wildfire of Kali, all spiritual practices have been reduced to ashes. Villages are plagued by bandits, the twice-born are struck by the trident of Śiva, and women, their hair disheveled, become lustful in this age of Kali.” “Thus, seeing the faults of Kali-yuga, I wandered the earth and came to the bank of the Yamunā, where the Lord’s pastimes had taken place. There I witnessed a wonder—listen, O great sages: a young woman sat, her mind weary and distressed. Beside her lay two old men, collapsed, breathing faintly and unconscious. She served them, tried to rouse them, and wept before them. She looked in all ten directions for her protector, her own form being fanned by hundreds of women who repeatedly tried to awaken her.” “Seeing this from a distance, I approached out of curiosity. When she saw me, the young woman rose, agitated, and spoke: ‘O holy one, please stay a moment and dispel my anxiety; your very sight destroys the sins of the world. By your words, relief from suffering will come; when great fortune arises, your presence is obtained.’” I asked her, “Who are you? Who are these two, and who are these lotus-eyed women? Tell me, O goddess, the cause of your distress.” She replied, “I am known as Bhakti. These two are my sons, Jñāna and Vairāgya, now aged and worn by the influence of time. These women, headed by Gaṅgā, have come here, remembering me, to serve me. Yet, though even the gods have served me, I have gained no true welfare. Now, listen attentively, O sage rich in austerity, to my story; though it is well known, hearing it will bring you happiness. I was born in Drāviḍa, grew up in Karṇāṭaka, and in some places in Mahārāṣṭra and Gurjara, I became aged. There, due to the terrible influence of Kali, I was attacked by heretics and became weak; for a long time, I remained feeble along with my sons. Having reached Vṛndāvana again, I became youthful and beautiful, a young woman in her prime, now possessing the best form.” Thus, Nārada listened to the tale of Bhakti, her sons Jñāna and Vairāgya, and the devoted women, witnessing the profound effects of the age of Kali and the enduring hope found in the sacred places and stories of the Lord.