In the age of Kali, villages are beset by bandits, chaos reigns, and the twice-born suffer under the trident of Śiva. Women, their hair in disarray, become overtaken by lustful impulses. Witnessing these troubling signs of Kali, I wandered the earth, seeking solace and answers. My journey brought me to the banks of the Yamunā, the sacred place where the Lord had performed His wondrous pastimes. There, I beheld a remarkable sight. Listen, O revered sages, to what I saw: a young woman sat there, her mind burdened and weary. Beside her lay two elderly men, collapsed and barely breathing, unconscious and frail. She tended to them, trying to rouse them, and wept before them in distress. The woman looked in all ten directions, searching desperately for a protector. Her own form was being fanned by hundreds of women, who repeatedly attempted to awaken her. Moved by curiosity upon seeing this from afar, I approached. The young woman, agitated, rose to greet me and spoke: “O holy one, please stay a moment and dispel my anxiety. Just seeing you destroys the sins of the world. By your words, relief from suffering will come; your presence is a sign of great fortune.” I asked her, “Who are you? Who are these two men, and who are these lotus-eyed women? Please tell me in detail, O goddess, the cause of your sorrow.” She replied, “I am known as Bhakti. These two are my sons, Jñāna and Vairāgya, now aged and worn by the passage of time. Those women, led by Gaṅgā, have come here, remembering me, to serve me. Even the gods have served me, yet I have not attained true welfare. Listen closely, O sage, to my story—though it is well known, hearing it will bring you joy. “I was born in Drāviḍa, grew up in Karṇāṭaka, and in Mahārāṣṭra and Gurjara I became aged. There, under the terrible influence of Kali, I was attacked by heretics and weakened; for a long time, I remained feeble along with my sons. But when I reached Vṛndāvana again, I became youthful and beautiful, a young woman in her prime, radiant with the best form. Yet here, my two sons lie exhausted from fatigue; I am about to leave this place for another land. “They have become old, and I am pained by this sorrow. Though I am young, why are my sons so aged? How has this reversal come about, though the three of us have always been together? It is natural for the mother to age and the sons to be young. Therefore, I grieve for myself, my mind filled with wonder. Tell me, O treasure of yoga, O wise one, what could be the cause here?” I, Nārada, replied, “Through knowledge, O sinless one, I perceive all this within the Self. Do not be despondent, for Hari will bring you auspiciousness.” Instantly understanding this, I spoke further: “Listen attentively, child. This yoga and the fierce Kali age have caused the disappearance of good conduct, the path of yoga, and austerities. People have become like Aghāsura, engaging in deceit and wicked deeds. Here, the virtuous are distressed, while the unrighteous rejoice. But the wise person who maintains courage is truly steadfast and learned. “Seeing these untouchables, the earth has become a burden-bearer. Year by year, gradually, no auspiciousness is seen. Now, no one even sees you together with your sons, neglected by those blinded by attachment and reduced to a state of decrepitude. By union with Vṛndāvana, you again became young and fresh; blessed is Vṛndāvana, where devotion also dances. Yet, due to the absence of those who would receive them, even old age does not leave your sons; with a little self-contentment, they consider themselves at rest.” Devotion then asked, “How was impure Kali established by King Parīkṣit? With the onset of Kali, where did the essence of all virtue go? Even by the compassionate Hari, how is unrighteousness witnessed? Please remove this doubt of mine with your words; I will be happy.” I replied, “Since you have asked, child, listen with affection. I will tell you everything, O fortunate one, and your confusion will depart. When Mukunda, the Lord, left the earth and returned to His own abode, from that day Kali arrived, obstructing all means of virtue. Seen by King Parīkṣit during his conquest of the directions, Kali, miserable, sought refuge. The king did not kill him, just as a honey-gatherer spares the bee. “The result not attained by austerity, yoga, or meditation is fully obtained in Kali by the praise of Keśava. Seeing Kali as uniform, devoid of essence and substance, Viṣṇurāta established him for the happiness of those born in Kali. Because of evil deeds, the essence has now departed from everywhere; objects remain on earth like husks without seed. “By the brāhmaṇas, the Bhāgavata teaching was made known in every home and to every person, but because of greed for a fee, the essence of the stories has departed. Those who perform extremely terrible and abundant deeds, the atheistic, hellish people—even they remain at holy places, but the essence of the holy places has departed. Even those whose minds are agitated by great desire, anger, greed, and thirst remain engaged in austerity, but the true essence of austerity is thus lost. “Because of the defeat of the mind, out of greed, hypocrisy, and resorting to heresy, and even from the mere study of scriptures, the fruit of meditation and yoga is lost. The learned delight with their wives like buffaloes, skillful in producing sons, but unskilled in attaining liberation.” Thus, the story unfolded, revealing the decline of virtue and the fading of essence in the Kali age, yet hinting at the hope that remains through devotion and the praise of the Lord.