The learned, the steadfast in yoga, the wise, and those who spoke of Brahman—all these noble souls carefully examined the vast collections of scripture, yet nowhere could they find any means for the liberation of the departed soul. Faced with this impasse, all assembled sages turned to the words of the Sun, recognizing them as supreme and authoritative regarding the path to liberation. At that very moment, Gokarṇa, the noble son of Dhenu, restrained the course of the Sun itself, pausing the relentless march of time. With deep reverence, Gokarṇa addressed the Sun, the eternal witness of the world, offering his respects and beseeching him: “O radiant one, tell me the true cause of liberation.” Hearing this earnest plea from afar, the Sun responded in a clear and resounding voice: “Recite the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam for seven days—this alone brings liberation.” The assembly accepted these words as the true essence of dharma. All present agreed: “This must be undertaken with effort, for though profound, it is indeed easy.” Resolute, Gokarṇa prepared himself and began the sacred recitation. News of this rare event spread swiftly, and people flocked from villages and distant regions—the lame, the blind, the aged, and the slow—all seeking the destruction of their sins through the hearing of the holy narrative. A great assembly gathered, so wondrous in its magnitude that even the gods looked on in amazement. Gokarṇa, having taken his seat, commenced the narration of the Bhāgavatam. At that time, the departed soul himself arrived, searching anxiously for a place from which he could hear. There he spotted a bamboo stalk, upright with seven knots. Entering a hole at its base, he took his place within, abandoning his subtle form of wind to dwell inside the bamboo. Recognizing the chief Vaiṣṇava brāhmaṇa as the foremost listener, Gokarṇa, son of Dhenu, began the clear and faithful narration from the very first book. Each day, as the recitation concluded, a marvelous event occurred: at the end of the first day, the first knot of the bamboo split open with a resounding crack, witnessed by the virtuous. On the second evening, the second knot broke; on the third, the third knot; and so it continued, each day another knot splitting, until, over seven days, all seven knots were broken. Having listened to the twelve cantos of the Bhāgavatam, the departed soul was freed from his lingering, bodiless state. He emerged in a divine form, adorned with a garland of tulasi, clad in yellow garments, dark as a rain-laden cloud, crowned and decorated with radiant earrings. He immediately bowed before his brother, Gokarṇa, and spoke with gratitude: “By your compassion, I am freed from bondage and the impurity of being a departed soul.” Blessed, indeed, is the discourse of the Bhāgavatam, which destroys the suffering of the departed; blessed, too, is the seven-day recitation, which grants the fruit of attaining Krishna’s eternal realm. All sins tremble when the seven-day hearing is undertaken; this narration brings immediate deliverance. Whether one’s sins are great or small, recent or ancient, committed by speech, mind, or action—hearing burns them away, just as fire consumes dry fuel. In this sacred land of Bharata, among the wise and even in the assembly of gods, the birth of those who do not hear this narration is declared fruitless. What is the use of protecting a well-nourished, strong body, which is unstable and perishable, if one does not hear the teachings of Śuka? The body is but a pillar of bones, bound with sinews, smeared with flesh and blood, covered by skin, foul-smelling, and a vessel for urine and excrement. Subject to old age, sorrow, and the consequences of actions, it is a house of disease and suffering, hard to fill, hard to bear, corrupted, flawed, and perishable in a moment. Ultimately, the body ends as worms, filth, and ashes; how can unstable actions performed with such a body ever accomplish anything lasting? Even the food prepared in the morning perishes by evening; in a body nourished by such impermanent food, what lasting value can there be? By hearing the Bhāgavatam for seven days, one attains Hari in this very life; this alone is the means for the removal of all faults. Those who lack the hearing of this narration are like bubbles in water or insects among creatures—born only to die. If the splitting of a dry bamboo’s knot is wondrous, how much more wondrous is the splitting of the knot in the heart by hearing the sacred narration! When the knot of the heart is broken, all doubts are cut, and one’s actions are exhausted—this is the fruit of the seven-day hearing. When the mind is firmly established at the sacred ford of narration, which is supremely capable of washing away the filth of worldly mire, then alone, say the wise, is liberation attained. As these truths were being spoken, a celestial chariot suddenly arrived, surrounded by the radiant residents of Vaikuṇṭha. Before the eyes of all, the son of Dhundhulī ascended the heavenly chariot. Seeing the Vaiṣṇavas in the chariot, Gokarṇa addressed them: “Here are many pure listeners who have heard my recitation; why have celestial chariots not come for all of them at once? All have listened equally—why, then, is there a difference in the result? Let the devotees of Hari explain.” The servants of Hari replied: “The difference in result arises from the difference in hearing. Though all have heard, not all have reflected deeply. The fruit of worship, too, varies according to the devotion and attention given. The departed soul performed his hearing while fasting for seven nights, engaging in deep reflection and concentration of mind. Knowledge that is not firm is destroyed; hearing is ruined by negligence; a mantra is lost if doubted; and recitation is spoiled by a distracted mind. A place not devoted to Viṣṇu is ruined; a śrāddha performed for the unworthy is ruined; charity given to one unlearned in scripture is ruined; and a family is ruined by misconduct. “Faith in the words of the guru, humility within oneself, conquering the faults of the mind, and unwavering attention in the narration—if these and similar qualities are accomplished, then indeed the fruit of hearing is attained, and at the end of the narration, residence in Vaikuṇṭha is certain for all. “O Gokarṇa, Govinda himself will grant you Goloka.” Having spoken thus, all the devotees of Hari departed to Vaikuṇṭha, their purpose fulfilled, leaving the assembly bathed in the radiance of liberation and divine grace.