When the seven-day hearing of the sacred narration was performed, the knot binding the heart was broken, all doubts were cut away, and the burden of past actions was exhausted. When the mind was established at the sacred ford of storytelling—so powerful in washing away the stains of worldly existence—the wise declared that liberation alone was attained. As Gokarṇa spoke, a celestial chariot suddenly appeared, radiant and surrounded by the residents of Vaikuṇṭha. All watched in awe as the son of Dhundhulī ascended the chariot. Seeing the Vaiṣṇavas seated within, Gokarṇa addressed them: “Here are many pure listeners of mine; why have celestial chariots not come for all at the same time? All performed the hearing equally—why then is there 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 deeply. Even in worship, O respectful one, the fruit differs according to the depth of one’s engagement. The soul who departed performed hearing while fasting for seven nights, and also engaged in profound reflection and concentration of mind. Knowledge lacking firmness is destroyed; hearing is ruined by negligence; a mantra is lost if doubted; recitation is spoiled by a distracted mind. A place not devoted to Viṣṇu is ruined, a śrāddha for the unworthy is ruined, charity given to one unlearned in scripture is ruined, and a family is ruined by misconduct. Faith in the guru’s words, humility within oneself, conquering the faults of the mind, and unwavering attention during narration—if these and similar virtues are accomplished, then the fruit of hearing is attained. At the end of the narration, residence in Vaikuṇṭha is assured for all.” “O Gokarṇa,” they continued, “Govinda himself will grant you Goloka.” With these words, all the devotees of Hari departed for Vaikuṇṭha. In the following month, Gokarṇa again recited the sacred narration, and once more, the listeners gathered for seven nights of hearing. “O Nārada,” the story continues, “listen to what happened at the conclusion of this narration.” Hari himself appeared, accompanied by devotees and celestial chariots. At that moment, cries of victory and salutations filled the air. Out of joy, Hari sounded the Pāñcajanya conch, and embracing Gokarṇa, made him like himself. Instantly, Hari transformed the other listeners: their bodies became dark like rain clouds, clothed in yellow silk, crowned, and adorned with earrings. Even those living in the village—born among horse-keepers and outcastes—were placed in celestial chariots by Gokarṇa’s grace. Those sent to Hari’s realm, where yogis aspire to go, the cowherd together with Gokarṇa reached Goloka, beloved of the cowherds. Pleased by the hearing of these stories, the Lord, who cherishes his devotees, departed. Just as the residents of Ayodhya were united with Rama in ages past, so too were they 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 went, simply by hearing the glorious Bhagavata. It is declared: what radiant fruit is gathered by seven-day sacrifices in these stories! For those who have drunk the syllables of Gokarṇa’s tale with their ears, even those in the womb are not born again. By consuming wind, water, and leaves, by austerities that dry the body, by fierce penances accumulated over time, and by yogic practices, one does not attain that state which is reached by hearing the seven-day narration. Even the sage Shandilya, lord among sages, residing in Citrakuta, recites this sacred history, immersed in the bliss of Brahman. This narration is supremely pure; hearing it even once destroys the mass of sins. When used in a śrāddha, it brings satisfaction to the ancestors; by daily recitation, one attains liberation and does not return. Now, the Kumāras spoke: “We shall explain the procedure for seven-day hearing of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata. It is remembered that this rite is generally accomplished with companions and wealth. One should summon an astrologer, carefully inquire about the auspicious time, and arrange resources as one would for a wedding. The months of Nabhas, Āśvina, Urja, and Mārgashīrsha are pure and auspicious for beginning the narration; these months indicate liberation for the listeners. The other months are to be avoided by Brahmins; those should be left aside entirely. Other companions should be appointed there, and those who are diligent. In each region, this message should be sent out with effort: the narration will take place here, and householders should come. Some stories of Hari and praises of Acyuta are far away; women, Shudras, and others—ensure their instruction is arranged. In each region, those detached Vaishnavas who are eager for kirtan—letters should be sent to them, and their writing is thus prescribed. The gathering of the virtuous will occur for seven nights, which is very rare; and the narration will be of a unique and unprecedented flavor. Those eager to drink the nectar of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata, you all should quickly come, devoted to love. If there is no space at any time—even for a single day—still, in every way, attendance should be ensured; even a moment here is very rare. In this way, arrangements should be made with humility; accommodations for all visitors should be provided. Whether at a sacred place, in the forest, or at home, listening is esteemed; wherever the earth is spacious, that is a suitable place for narrating these stories. Purification, cleansing of the ground, smearing, and decorating with minerals should be done; household items are to be removed and placed in a corner of the house. After five days, with effort, the previously spread coverings should be cleaned; a lofty pavilion should be constructed, adorned with banana trunks.” Thus, the glory of the Śrīmad Bhāgavata and the sacred process of its seven-day recitation were revealed—bestowing liberation, joy, and the grace of Hari upon all who listen with reverence and devotion.