Hear now the sacred story as it unfolded among the wise and the devoted. The divine sage Nārada, having spoken to King Prācīnabarhī, revealed profound truths: “He alone is the dearest Self, from whom not even the slightest fear arises. He who truly knows this is wise indeed, and such a one is the true teacher—Hari Himself.” Nārada then addressed the king with affection, “O best of men, your question has been answered. Now listen with attention as I share with you a secret, well-established teaching.” He described a parable: “Imagine a small, wandering creature, seeking shelter among the gentle, drawn irresistibly to the sweet songs of six-legged ones, greedy for their melody. Heedless of the insatiable wolves ahead, he moves forward, while behind, a wounded deer—pursued by the hunter’s arrow—follows him.” Nārada explained, “Among women of gentle nature, the shelter of the hermitage is as faint as a flower’s fragrance. Seeking fleeting pleasure born of desire, one becomes absorbed in union, captivated by alluring speech, just as the creature is enchanted by the songs of bees. Ahead, like a pack of wolves, time devours one’s lifespan, day and night, unnoticed as life is enjoyed at home. Meanwhile, the hunter—Death—strikes unseen. O King, see for yourself the self whose heart is pierced.” He continued, “Therefore, observe the deer’s behavior and restrain your mind within your heart, as a charioteer holds the reins. Abandon the company of women and the songs of the herd, and gradually seek the shelter of the Swan—be satisfied and withdraw, step by step.” Hearing this, the king asked, “O brāhmaṇa, I have listened and reflected on the Lord’s words. Why do teachers not explain this, if they know it?” He confessed, “O brāhmaṇa, your words have dispelled my great doubt. Even sages are bewildered where the senses do not reach.” Nārada then spoke of karma and rebirth: “By whatever actions a person performs here, when he abandons this body, he enjoys the results of those actions in another body elsewhere. Among those who know the Vedas, it is debated: the results of actions are said to be hidden, not manifest.” He clarified, “By whatever actions one acts, by those very actions one enjoys the results in the next life, without interruption, through the subtle body and mind. Just as a man leaves behind a sleeping, breathing body, so does he enjoy the results of actions, either with that body or with another. Whatever a person, saying ‘I am this,’ grasps with his mind, he attains the results of those actions, by which rebirth occurs.” He continued, “Just as the mind is inferred from the activities of the senses, so too are actions from previous bodies recognized by the movements of the mind. With this body, one may not have experienced nor seen nor heard certain things, yet at some time, that form may be perceived within oneself. Therefore, O King, the embodied soul attains such a form arising from the body; meanings not directly experienced cannot be grasped by the mind. The mind alone reveals to a person the previous forms, and likewise those that will be, as well as those that will not be. Sometimes, what has not been seen or heard appears in the mind; thus, one should infer according to place, time, and action.” He taught, “All objects accessible to the mind and senses come and go repeatedly in accordance with sequence; all people share this experience. When the mind is fixed solely in sattva, dwelling near the Lord, then darkness, like the moon’s shadow, is dispelled and all is illuminated. The notion of ‘I’ and ‘mine’ is interrupted in a person as long as the arrangement of intellect, mind, senses, and qualities, which is beginningless, persists. During sleep, fainting, and suffering, due to disruption of breath, the awareness ‘I am’ does not arise—even at the burning of death. In the womb and in childhood, due to immaturity, the elevenfold subtle body is not manifest, just as the moon is hidden in the new phase. Even when the object is absent, the cycle does not cease; as one contemplates objects, misfortune comes in dreams, though they are unreal.” He explained further, “Thus, the fivefold subtle body, expanded in three and sixteen ways, when joined with consciousness, is called the living being. By this, the person takes up and abandons bodies, and through this experiences joy, sorrow, fear, pain, and happiness. Just as a leech on grass and water neither departs nor remains, so a person does not abandon identification with the body, even at the time of death. The unseen does not perish like the seen, but exists otherwise, like a dream; what has been, what is, and what will be, all sleep day and night. When one repeatedly contemplates actions performed by the senses, as long as ignorance persists in action, bondage arises for the non-self.” Nārada concluded, “Therefore, for the sake of liberation from that bondage, worship Hari with all your being, seeing the universe as his own, from whom arise creation, maintenance, and dissolution.” Maitreya, the sage, then spoke: “The foremost devotee, Lord Nārada, having shown the path of the swans and bidding them farewell, went to Siddhaloka. King Prācīnabarhī, the royal sage, after instructing his sons in the protection of creation, went to the hermitage of Kapila for austerity. There, with a mind fixed in one-pointed concentration, he steadfastly worshipped Govinda’s lotus feet. Freed from all attachment, he attained likeness with Him through devotion.” O sinless one, this teaching on the transcendental Self was sung by the divine sage; whoever recites it or hears it is liberated from material bondage. This purifying glory of Mukunda, which sanctifies the world, has flowed from the mouth of the foremost divine sage, embodying the purity of the Self; whoever hears it recited attains the supreme state and, freed from all bonds, no longer wanders in this existence. Maitreya concluded, “This wondrous transcendental teaching, which I have now obtained, resolves all doubts regarding the duties of women and men, both here and hereafter.” Then, Śuka began to speak: “When the Lord suddenly disappeared, the women of Vraja, unable to see Him, were tormented, just like female elephants separated from their leader. Absorbed in His movements, affection, smiles, playful glances, charming speech, and delightful pastimes, the women, their minds captivated by the Lord of Lakṣmī, began to imitate His actions, each identifying herself with Him. In walking, smiling, glancing, speaking, and other acts, the beloveds of the Beloved, embodying His very form, imitated Kṛṣṇa’s playful ways, saying, ‘I am He,’ each convinced in her heart.” Gathered together, they sang of Him loudly and wandered from forest to forest like those possessed, searching for Him; they questioned the trees, who, though standing apart, contain the Supreme Person within, as if asking the sky: “O Aśvattha, Plakṣa, Nyagrodha trees, have you seen the son of Nanda pass this way, stealing our minds with His loving glances and radiant smiles?” Thus, the story flows from the wisdom of Nārada and the journey of the king, to the yearning devotion of the women of Vraja, all revealing the path to the Supreme.