When Gokarṇa performed the sacred śrāddha rites at Gayā for his departed brother Dhundhukārī, he hoped this would grant liberation to the soul. Yet, when he addressed the spirit, he confessed his uncertainty: “If even the Gayā śrāddha does not bring you liberation, there is no other means I know. What else can I do for you, O departed one? Please tell me the truth, in detail.” Dhundhukārī’s spirit replied, “Even a hundred śrāddhas at Gayā will not grant me liberation. You must now consider some other way for my release.” Hearing this, Gokarṇa was astonished. “If liberation cannot be gained even after a hundred śrāddhas, then your release is indeed very difficult,” he said. Still, he reassured his brother, “Remain in your own place, without fear. I will think and perform some act to bring about your liberation.” Following Gokarṇa’s instructions, Dhundhukārī returned to his own place, while Gokarṇa spent that night deep in thought, unable to sleep. When morning came, people gathered joyfully to see Gokarṇa, eager to hear what had transpired. He recounted everything that had occurred during the night. The learned, the steadfast in yoga, the wise, and the speakers of Brahman—all examined the scriptures, searching for a means to liberate Dhundhukārī’s soul, but none could find a solution. Then, among them, the words of the Sun were recognized as supreme regarding liberation. At that moment, Gokarṇa prayed, restraining the speed of the Sun: “O witness of the world, I offer you my respects. Please tell me the cause of liberation.” Hearing this from afar, the Sun spoke clearly: “Recite the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam for seven days—this brings liberation.” All present accepted this as the true form of dharma. Everyone agreed: “This must be done with effort, for it is indeed easy.” Resolute, Gokarṇa began the recitation of the Bhāgavatam. People flocked from villages and regions—the lame, the blind, the old, and the slow—all seeking the destruction of their sins. A great assembly formed, so wondrous that even the gods were amazed, as Gokarṇa took his seat and began to narrate the sacred story. At that time, Dhundhukārī’s spirit also arrived, searching for a place to listen. He saw a bamboo with seven knots, standing upright, and entered a hole at its base to listen, unable to remain in the form of wind, he entered the bamboo itself. Recognizing the chief Vaiṣṇava brāhmaṇa as the foremost listener, Gokarṇa, the son of Dhenu, began the clear narration from the first book. At the end of the day, as the verse was recited, a wondrous event occurred: the first knot in the bamboo split with a sound, witnessed by the virtuous. On the second day, the second knot broke; on the third day, the third knot split, and so it continued. Over seven days, all seven knots were broken. Having listened to the twelve cantos, Dhundhukārī abandoned the state of a departed soul. He assumed a divine form, adorned with a garland of tulasi, clad in yellow garments, dark as a rain cloud, crowned and wearing earrings. Immediately, he bowed to his brother Gokarṇa and said, “By your compassion, I have been freed from bondage and the impurity of being a departed soul.” Dhundhukārī praised the discourse: “Blessed is the Bhagavata, which destroys the suffering of departed souls; blessed too is the seven-day recitation, which grants the fruit of attaining Krishna’s realm. All sins tremble when the seven-day hearing is undertaken; this narration will bring about our immediate deliverance. Whether moist or dry, light or heavy, done by speech, mind, or action, hearing burns away sin, just as fire consumes fuel.” He continued, “In this land of Bharata, among the wise and in the assembly of gods, the birth of those who do not hear the narration is declared fruitless. What is the use of protecting a well-nourished, strong body, which is unstable, without hearing the teachings of Shuka? This body—a pillar of bones, bound by sinews, smeared with flesh and blood, covered by skin, foul-smelling, a vessel for urine and excrement—is afflicted by old age, sorrow, and the consequences of actions, a house of disease and suffering, hard to fill, hard to bear, corrupted, flawed, and perishable in a moment. The body ends in worms, filth, and ashes; how can actions performed with such a body ever accomplish anything lasting? Food prepared in the morning perishes by evening; in a body nourished by such food, what permanence can there be?” He concluded, “By hearing for seven days, Hari is attained in this world; therefore, for the removal of faults, this alone is the means. Like bubbles in water, like insects among creatures, those who lack the hearing of the narration are born only to die. Where the knot of a dry bamboo is split, that is wondrous; but how much more wondrous is the splitting of the knot in the heart by hearing the narration. The knot of the heart is broken, all doubts are cut, and actions are exhausted when the seven-day hearing is performed. When the mind is established at the sacred ford of narration, which is most capable of washing away the filth of worldly mire, then liberation alone is declared by the wise.” As Dhundhukārī spoke, a celestial chariot arrived, surrounded by residents of Vaikuṇṭha, radiating brilliant light. While all watched, Dhundhukārī ascended the chariot. Seeing the Vaiṣṇavas in the chariot, Gokarṇa spoke: “Here are many pure listeners of mine; why have celestial chariots not come for all of them at the same time? Hearing was equally performed by all here; why then has there arisen a difference in result? Let the devotees of Hari explain.” The servants of Hari replied, “The difference in result here is due to the difference in hearing. Though all have heard, not all have reflected as much. Therefore, the difference in result arises even from worship, O respectful one.” Thus, the power of true, attentive hearing and reflection upon the sacred narration was revealed, and Dhundhukārī attained liberation, his heart’s knot split, ascending to the realm of Hari.