On the second day, as evening descended, the second knot binding the soul was broken; on the third evening, the third knot was also severed. In this manner, over the course of seven days, each day’s evening saw the breaking of another knot, until all seven were undone. By the end of the seven days, having listened attentively to the twelve cantos of the Bhagavata, the soul who had been trapped as a departed spirit was freed from that state. At that moment, he assumed a divine form: his body was dark as a rain-laden cloud, adorned with a garland of sacred tulasi leaves, clad in radiant yellow garments, crowned and decked with shining earrings. Immediately, he bowed in gratitude to his brother, Gokarna, and spoke with deep reverence: “By your compassion, I have been liberated from bondage and released from the impurity of being a departed soul.” He praised the discourse of the Bhagavata, declaring it blessed, for it destroys the suffering of departed souls. He extolled the seven-day recitation, which bestows the supreme fruit of attaining Krishna’s own realm. He proclaimed that all sins tremble before the seven-day hearing, and that this sacred narration brings immediate deliverance. Whether a sin is moist or dry, light or heavy, committed by speech, mind, or action, hearing the Bhagavata burns it away just as fire consumes fuel. In the 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. Of what use is it to preserve a strong, well-nourished body, which is unstable and impermanent, if one does not listen to the teachings of Shuka? The body, after all, is but a pillar of bones bound by sinews, smeared with flesh and blood, covered by skin, foul-smelling, and a vessel for urine and excrement. It 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 an instant. Ultimately, the body ends as worms, filth, and ashes; how can actions performed with such a transient body ever accomplish anything lasting? Food prepared in the morning perishes by evening; in a body nourished by such fleeting sustenance, what permanence can there be? But by hearing for seven days, one attains Hari in this very world; therefore, for the removal of faults, this alone is the true means. Those who lack the hearing of this narration are like bubbles in water or insects among creatures—born only to die. If the knot of a dry bamboo is split, it is wondrous; but far more wondrous is the splitting of the knot in the heart by hearing this sacred narration. When the knot of the heart is broken, all doubts are cut away, and one’s actions are exhausted through the seven-day hearing. When the mind is established at the sacred ford of this narration, which is most capable of washing away the filth of worldly mire, then alone is liberation declared by the wise. As the newly liberated soul spoke these words, a celestial chariot suddenly arrived, surrounded by the radiant residents of Vaikuṇṭha. While all present watched in awe, the son of Dhundhulī ascended the chariot. Seeing the Vaiṣṇavas in the chariot, Gokarna addressed them: “Here are many pure listeners of mine—why have celestial chariots not come for all of them at the same time? All here have heard equally; why, then, has there arisen a difference in result? Let the devotees of Hari explain.” The servants of Hari replied, “The difference in result is due to the difference in hearing. Though all have listened, not all have reflected as deeply. Thus, even in worship, the difference in result arises, O respectful one. The departed soul not only heard while fasting for seven nights but also engaged in deep reflection and concentrated his mind. Knowledge that is not firm is destroyed; hearing is spoiled by negligence; a mantra is lost if doubted, and recitation is ruined 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 to the narration—if these and similar qualities are present, then indeed the fruit of hearing is attained. At the end of such narration, residence in Vaikuṇṭha is certain for all.” They blessed Gokarna, saying, “O Gokarna, Govinda himself will grant you Goloka.” Having spoken thus, all the devotees of Hari departed to Vaikuṇṭha. In the following month, Gokarna again recited the sacred narration, and once more, the listeners undertook the seven-day hearing. O Nārada, listen now to what happened at the conclusion of that narration. Hari himself appeared there, accompanied by his devotees and celestial chariots. At that time, the air was filled with cries of victory and salutations. Out of joy, Hari sounded his Pāñcajanya conch and, embracing Gokarna, made him like himself. Instantly, Hari transformed the other listeners as well, making them dark-hued like rain clouds, clothed in yellow silk, crowned, and adorned with earrings. Even those who lived in that village—born among horse-keepers and outcastes—were placed in celestial chariots by the grace of Gokarna at that very moment. All those sent to Hari’s realm, the abode sought by yogis, including that cowherd and Gokarna himself, reached Goloka, beloved of the cowherds. Pleased by the hearing of his stories, the Lord who cherishes his devotees departed. Just as the residents of Ayodhya were united with Rama in the past, so too were these devotees led by Krishna to Goloka—a realm difficult even for yogis to attain. To that world, where neither sun nor moon nor perfected beings ever reach, they indeed went, all by hearing the glorious Bhagavata. It is declared: what radiant fruit is gathered by seven-day sacrifices or other stories? For those who have drunk the syllables of Gokarna’s tale with their ears, even those in the womb are not born again. By consuming only wind, water, and leaves; by austerities that dry the body; by fierce penances accumulated over long ages; and by yogic practices—none attain that state which is reached simply by hearing the seven-day narration of the Bhagavata.