As the time approached for the Lord to withdraw his visible presence from the earth, a deep concern arose among his devotees. They wondered anxiously, “How will your devotees remain on earth in your absence? Worshipping the formless Absolute is so difficult for most. Please, consider some means by which your devotees may continue to be supported.” Uddhava, ever devoted, voiced this heartfelt plea. Hearing these words at Prabhāsa, Hari, the compassionate Lord, pondered deeply: “What should I do to uphold and nourish my devotees after my departure?” With profound intent, he resolved upon a wondrous act. He infused his own divine radiance into the sacred scripture, the Bhāgavata, concealing himself within its verses and entering into the very heart of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, like the ocean holding the moon’s reflection. Thus, this Bhāgavata, a form composed of sacred words, stands manifest as Hari himself upon the earth. Those who serve it, hear it, recite it, or even merely behold it, find their sins destroyed and their hearts purified. The tradition of hearing the Bhāgavata over the course of seven days has been declared superior to all other forms of sādhanā, setting aside other disciplines. This is the dharma especially prescribed for the age of Kali. In this troubled age, this path has been revealed for the removal of suffering, poverty, misfortune, and sin, and indeed, for conquering the impulses of desire and anger. Otherwise, even the gods themselves find it extremely difficult to cast off the powerful illusion of Māyā, the veil that deludes all beings. How much harder, then, for ordinary people? Therefore, the seven-day recitation is prescribed for all. Sūta, the wise narrator, continued: “As the sages revealed this supreme dharma in the sacred assembly at Nāgaśravaṇa, a wondrous event occurred—please listen, O Śaunaka, as I recount it to you.” Suddenly, Bhakti herself appeared in their midst, radiant with pure love, holding the hands of her two youthful sons. She was resplendent, repeatedly uttering the holy names: “Śrī Kṛṣṇa, Govinda, Hare, Murāri, Nātha.” The assembly of sages beheld her arrival, adorned with the ornaments of the Bhāgavata’s meaning and clad in beautiful garments. They marveled at her presence, wondering how she had entered and from whence she had come. At that moment, the wise Kumāras spoke: “She has now emerged from the very essence of this sacred narrative.” Upon hearing these words, Bhakti, with her sons, humbly approached Sanatkumāra and addressed him: “Today, by your grace, I have been nourished. Though I was lost and diminished in the age of Kali, the nectar of this narrative has revived me. Now, tell me, O Brāhmaṇas—where shall I reside?” The sages replied: “O Bhakti, it is you who, among devotees, manifest the forms of Govinda. You alone sustain the flow of love, and you alone destroy the disease of worldly existence. Therefore, remain always, with unwavering resolve, in the hearts of the Vaiṣṇavas.” Thus, even the faults and evils of Kali cannot approach her, nor can their power prevail where Bhakti dwells. By the sages’ command, Bhakti then took her seat in the hearts of the Lord’s servants. Indeed, even those who are destitute in all the worlds are truly blessed if devotion to Śrī Hari dwells in their hearts. For Hari himself, abandoning his own supreme abode, enters their hearts, bound by the thread of devotion. What greater praise can be spoken of a true Bhāgavata, whose very being is Brahman manifest on earth? By taking refuge in such a devotee, both the speaker and the listener of his words attain the pure equality with Kṛṣṇa—a state that no other path of dharma can grant. Sūta continued: “Then, seeing the extraordinary devotion in the hearts of the Vaiṣṇavas, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, left his own realm and appeared among them. He was adorned with a garland of forest flowers, his form dark as a raincloud, clad in yellow garments. Enchanting in every way, he radiated with a golden waistband, shining crown, and brilliant earrings. Graceful in his threefold-bending posture, adorned with the Kaustubha gem, he shone with the beauty of ten million Cupids, his body anointed with fragrant sandalwood paste. The embodiment of supreme bliss and consciousness, sweet and ever-youthful, holding his flute, he entered the pure hearts of his devotees. The Vaishnavas of Vaikuntha—Uddhava and others—had taken on concealed forms in this world simply to hear these sacred stories. At that time, cries of victory resounded; a supernatural fullness of rasa pervaded the air; showers of powdered flowers fell repeatedly, and the sound of conch shells echoed through the assembly. Those gathered there became so absorbed that they forgot their bodies, homes, and very selves. Observing their wondrous state of devotion, the sage Narada spoke: ‘O sages, today I have witnessed this extraordinary glory, arising from the seven-day event. Even the ignorant, the deceitful, beasts, and birds here are all utterly freed from sin. Therefore, in this world, there is nothing else in Kali Yuga that so purifies the mind; nothing else on earth so thoroughly destroys heaps of sin as does the hearing of these stories. Who, then, are purified by the seven-day sacrifice of storytelling? Tell me, has any compassionate soul, thinking of the world’s welfare, revealed such a new and wondrous path?’ The Kumāras answered: ‘Those humans who always commit sins, constantly engaged in wicked conduct and straying from the path, who are burned by the fire of anger, crooked and lustful—they are purified in Kali Yuga by the seven-day sacrifice. Those devoid of truth, who insult their parents, overwhelmed by desire, neglectful of ashrama-dharma, hypocritical, envious, and violent—they too are purified by this practice. Those who commit the five great sins, who are deceitful, cruel, and merciless like demons, who live off Brahmins’ wealth and commit adultery—they are purified by the seven-day sacrifice. Those who sin constantly by body, speech, and mind, who are stubborn, greedy for others’ wealth, impure, and of evil intent—they also are purified by this sacrifice. Let me tell you an ancient story, which, by the mere act of hearing, brings about the destruction of sin. On the banks of the Tungabhadra river, there was once a splendid city where the people of all four varnas were devoted to truth and to virtuous deeds according to their own dharma. In that city lived Atmadeva, thoroughly learned in all the Vedas, expert in both śruti and smṛti, shining like a second sun. Though a beggar in appearance, he was wealthy in the world. His beloved wife, Dhundhuli, was steadfast in her own words, beautiful, and born in a noble family. Yet she was deeply attached to worldly affairs, sometimes cruel, talkative, skilled in household duties, miserly, and fond of quarrels. Though the couple lived together in affection and enjoyed the pleasures of life, neither their wealth nor their desires brought happiness to their home. Later, seeking progeny, they turned to the practice of dharma, giving cows, land, gold, and garments to the needy. Half their wealth was spent in such acts of righteousness, yet neither son nor daughter was born to them, and they were greatly troubled by anxiety. One day, that twice-born man, Atmadeva, distressed by his childlessness, left his home and went to the forest. At midday, overcome by thirst, he approached a pond. After drinking, he sat down, emaciated by sorrow. After a short while, a certain renunciant arrived there, setting the stage for a new chapter in his life.