Thus, by following the paths of ritual and yoga—whether in the Vedic or Tantric traditions—a devotee who worships with sincerity attains from me the desired perfection in both ways. Establishing my image, the devotee should build a firm and enduring temple, and there create delightful gardens for flowers, to be used in worship and festivals. For the ongoing flow of worship and all related rites, both on great festival days and in daily practice, the devotee should dedicate fields, shops, towns, and villages for the temple’s support, and by such offerings, attains my own realm. Through the act of consecration, one becomes a sovereign over the three worlds, gaining a residence therein; through worship and related acts, one attains the world of Brahma, and by combining these, attains equality with me. Yet, by exclusive devotion and yoga, one attains me alone. In this way, whoever worships me with devotion secures the path of loving service. But beware: whoever takes for themselves what was offered to the gods or Brahmins, whether given by themselves or by others for the sake of their maintenance, becomes degraded, condemned to subsist on filth for tens of thousands of years. For the sake of the doer, the essence, and the approver—those who participate and share in these actions—after death, they repeatedly obtain the greater fruit of those deeds. Now, Śuka continued: On the eleventh day of the lunar month, Nanda observed a fast and worshipped Janārdana. On the following day, the twelfth, he entered the waters of the Kālindī river to bathe. At that time, a servant of Varuṇa, who was an asura, seized Nanda and brought him before Varuṇa, for Nanda had entered the water at night, crossing the boundary of the asuras. The cowherds, unable to find Nanda, cried out in distress, “Krishna! Rama!” Hearing their anguished calls, the Blessed Lord Krishna, who grants fearlessness to his own, understood that his father had been taken by Varuṇa. O King, Krishna, mighty and compassionate, went at once to that place. When Varuṇa, the guardian of the world, saw Krishna arrive, he welcomed him with great honor, worshipped him splendidly, and rejoiced in the great festival of beholding the Lord. Varuṇa said, “Today my body is pacified; today, O Lord, my purpose is fulfilled. Those devoted to your feet, O Blessed One, have reached the end of the path. Obeisance to you, Supreme Self, Brahman, in whom neither illusion nor the imagined creation of worlds is heard of. Unknowingly, by my own foolishness and ignorance, your father was brought here. Please forgive this offense. You, who see all, O Krishna, are worthy to bestow your favor upon me. O Govinda, lover of your father, let your father return to his home.” Thus propitiated, Krishna, the Lord of lords, took his father and returned, bringing joy to his relatives. Nanda, having witnessed the extraordinary glory of Varuṇa and his reverence for Krishna, spoke to his kinsmen with amazement. The cowherds, their minds eager and filled with wonder, thought, “Will this Lord now show us our own subtle destination?” The Blessed Lord, knowing the hearts of his own people, considered their desire with deep compassion, wishing to fulfill it. He reflected: “People in this world, bewildered by ignorance, desire, and action, wander along higher and lower paths, not knowing their own true destination.” Thus, filled with great compassion, Hari resolved to reveal to the cowherds his own world, which lies beyond all darkness. He revealed to them that realm of truth, knowledge, and infinity—Brahman, the eternal radiance which the sages behold when all qualities have ceased and their minds are fully absorbed. Krishna led them to the lake of Brahman, where they were immersed and then lifted out by his hand, and there they beheld the world of Brahman, the same place Akrura had once seen. Nanda and the others, seeing that place, were filled with supreme bliss and amazement, and they saw Krishna being praised there by hymns. Know, O King, that knowledge, discrimination, scripture, austerity, direct perception, tradition, and inference—all these, whatever exists at their beginning and end, and even time and causality themselves, that alone exists in the middle as well. Just as gold, created by oneself before and after, pervades all golden objects, so too, amidst the various designations of the world, I am that essence. O dear one, this knowledge is threefold in its states, composed of the three guṇas—cause, effect, and agent; but through their conjunction and separation, only that which is the fourth state—the transcendental truth—remains. That which is not before, nor after, nor in the middle, is merely a name; whatever is established as existent by the supreme, that alone truly is. That which, though not truly existing, yet appears—this is the transformation born of rajas; Brahman itself, being self-luminous, shines forth as the wondrous variety of Brahman, senses, objects, mind, and their modifications. Thus, by clear reasoning that discerns Brahman, and with skill in refuting contrary views, one should cut off self-doubt and become tranquil, satisfied in one’s own bliss, indifferent to all objects of desire. The self is not the body made of earth, nor the senses, nor the gods, demons, wind, water, or fire; mind is only food, intellect is sattva, ego is space, and earth is the balance of elements. How could the senses, composed of guṇas, affect the one whose abode is clearly distinguished? Or what fault is there if they are agitated? Just as clouds, even when present, do not affect the sun when they have departed. Just as space is not attached to the qualities of wind, fire, water, or earth, as they come and go with their own properties, so too the imperishable self is untouched by sattva, rajas, and tamas—the causes of transmigration in the mind. Nevertheless, association with the guṇas, which are creations of māyā, should be avoided, until, by firm devotion to me, the impurity of rajas is removed from the mind. Those false yogis, hindered by obstacles created by gods or humans, again take up the practice of yoga by the force of previous habit, but not according to the path of karma. Action is performed, and the living being acts, impelled by some cause or by fate; but the wise one, even while remaining in the world, having renounced all thirst for results, experiences his own happiness. Whether standing, sitting, walking, lying down, releasing, or eating food—whatever state the self assumes, the mind established in the self does not regard it as anything other than itself. If one perceives an unreal object of the senses, and by various reasonings sees something contrary, the wise do not consider it real—just as, upon waking, a dream disappears. The pattern of guṇas and actions, previously acquired and not distinguished from the self due to ignorance, ceases by mere observation; the self is neither grasped nor abandoned. Thus concludes the twenty-eighth chapter of the first half of the Tenth Book in the great Purana, Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the scripture cherished by the supreme, swan-like sages.