After the passing of a soul, those who are connected to its actions—the doer, the essence, the approver, and those who share in the deeds—are destined to repeatedly receive the greater fruits of those actions. Such is the law of karma, binding all participants. Now, Śuka continued his narration: On the eleventh day, Nanda, fasting in observance, worshipped Janārdana with devotion. On the twelfth day, he entered the waters of the Kālindī River to bathe. However, as he entered the river at night, disregarding the boundaries set by the asuras, a servant of Varuṇa, an asura, seized him and brought him before Varuṇa himself. The cowherds, unable to find Nanda, cried out in distress, “Krishna! Rama!” Hearing their anguished calls, Krishna, the Blessed Lord who grants fearlessness to his devotees, understood that his father had been taken by Varuṇa. Mighty and compassionate, Krishna went to the place where Nanda was held. When Hrishikesha, the Lord of the senses, arrived, Varuṇa, the guardian of the world, welcomed him with great honor, worshipping him splendidly and celebrating the joyous festival of beholding the Lord. With deep reverence, Varuṇa addressed Krishna: “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, O Supreme Self, Brahman, where illusion and the imagined creation of worlds are not heard of. Unknowingly, by my own foolishness and ignorance of what should not be done, your father was brought here. May you forgive this transgression. You, who see all, O Krishna, are worthy to show your favor to me as well. O Govinda, lover of your father, please let your father return.” Propitiated by Varuṇa’s humility and devotion, Krishna, Lord of lords, took Nanda and returned, bringing great joy to his relatives. Having witnessed the extraordinary glory of Varuṇa and the reverence he held for Krishna, Nanda, astonished, spoke to his kinsmen about what he had seen. The cowherds, their minds eager and filled with wonder, thought, “Will this Lord show us our own subtle destination?” Krishna, the Blessed Lord, knowing the hearts of his people, considered their desire with compassion and resolved to fulfill it. People in this world, bewildered by ignorance, desire, and action, wander among higher and lower paths, not knowing their own true destination. Understanding this, Hari, filled with great compassion, revealed to the cowherds his own world, which is beyond all darkness. That world is truth, knowledge, infinite—Brahman, the eternal radiance, which the sages behold when the qualities have ceased and their minds are absorbed in contemplation. Krishna led the cowherds to the lake of Brahman, where they immersed themselves and were then lifted out by him. There, they beheld the world of Brahman, the same place Akrura had once visited. Nanda and the others, upon seeing that realm, were filled with supreme bliss and amazement. They witnessed Krishna being praised there by hymns, and their hearts overflowed with joy. Knowledge, discrimination, scripture, austerity, direct perception, tradition, and inference—whatever is present at the beginning and end of these, and time and causality as well—only that alone exists in the middle. Just as gold, created by oneself before and after, pervades all golden objects, so too, amidst various designations, Krishna is that essence. Krishna explained: “O dear ones, this knowledge exists in three states, consisting of the three guṇas—cause, effect, and agent. By their conjunction and separation, that alone which is the fourth state is the truth. That which is not before, nor after, nor in the middle, is merely a designation; whatever is established as existent by the supreme, that alone is, thus is my understanding. That which, though not existing, yet appears, 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 opposing 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, 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 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 practice yoga by the force of previous habit, but not according to the method of karma. Action is performed, and the living being acts, impelled by some cause or by fate; but the wise one, even while situated in nature, having renounced thirst, 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 know it as anything else. If one perceives an unreal object of the senses, and by various reasoning 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. Just as the rising sun destroys darkness for human eyes but does not create it, so too Krishna's keen discernment destroys the darkness of ignorance in a person's intellect. This self-luminous, unborn, immeasurable one is the great experience, the experience of all; the one without a second, when speech ceases, by whom speech and life are directed. This much is the delusion of self: the notion of difference in the pure; apart from the self, there is no support for one's own self. That which is apprehended by name and form, fivefold and uncontradicted—this, even if meaningless, is mere praise; such duality belongs to those who consider themselves wise. For a yogi whose yoga is not yet mature, disturbances arising in the body may hinder him; for this, the prescribed rule is given. By the power of yogic concentration, some destroy afflictions through postures accompanied by retention; others dispel disturbances with austerity, mantras, and medicinal herbs. Thus concludes the twenty-eighth chapter of the first half of the tenth book in the great Purana, Srimad Bhagavata, the sacred scripture of the supreme, swan-like sages.