As the glorious Hari sat radiant upon an exalted seat, the assembled devotees began to sing his praises, their voices rising in devotion. At the forefront of this gathering, Śiva arrived with Pārvatī, and Brahmā appeared seated upon his lotus, both eager to witness the glorification of the Lord. Prahlāda took up cymbals, Uddhava played the bell with lively movements, and the sage among the gods skillfully strummed the vīṇā. Arjuna led the tune, while Indra played the mṛdaṅga, exclaiming, “Victory! Victory! How skillful you are, O Kumāras, in this praise!” At the front, Śuka, son of Vyāsa, recited with a flowing and eloquent composition. In the midst of this celebration, Hari, Śiva, and Brahmā danced together, shining like actors among the most radiant devotees. Witnessing this extraordinary glorification, though delighted, Hari spoke to those gathered: “Ask from me a boon, according to your heart’s devotion; I am pleased by your narration and praise at this very moment.” Hearing these words, the devotees, deeply moved with love, joyfully addressed Hari, saying, “In all the songs of the mountains and serpents, and by all devotees, may you be remembered with effort—this is our wish, which must be fulfilled.” Hari replied, “So be it,” and then Acyuta disappeared from their sight. Nārada, along with Śuka and the other ascetics, bowed at Hari’s feet. Rejoicing, their delusion dispelled, all departed, having drunk the nectar of the divine story. That devotion, protected along with Śuka’s sons, was preserved by Śuka even within his own scripture. Thus, by serving the Bhāgavata, the minds of Vaiṣṇavas are drawn to Hari. For those afflicted by poverty, suffering, and fever—crushed by the demon of illusion and cast into the ocean of worldly existence—the Bhāgavata resounds for their well-being. Śaunaka then asked, “When did Śuka speak to the king? When did Gokarṇa speak again? When did the sage among the gods address the Brāhmaṇas? Please dispel this doubt of mine.” Sūta replied, “Thirty years after Kṛṣṇa’s departure, when Kali had advanced, on the ninth day of the bright fortnight in the month of Bhādrapada, Śuka began the narration. At the end of Parīkṣit’s hearing, in Kali, after two hundred years had passed, on a pure and auspicious ninth day, Gokarṇa, born of a cow, recited the story. Then, when Kali had further advanced by thirty years, on the ninth day of the bright half of Kārtika, the sons of Brahmā recited it. Thus, O sinless one, I have described to you what you asked: the Bhāgavata story in Kali, which destroys the disease of worldly existence. This narration, dear to Kṛṣṇa, destroys all sins, is the sole cause of liberation, and brings forth the play of devotion. Let the virtuous drink this tale with reverence—for what need is there for pilgrimage or ritual service in this world? Even when seeing his own servant holding the noose, Yama is said to whisper, ‘Avoid those intoxicated by the stories of the Lord; I am the master of others’ anger, but not of the Vaiṣṇavas.’ In this insubstantial world, where minds are troubled by the poison of sense-objects, drink, even for half a moment, the nectar-like verses of Śuka for your welfare. Why wander uselessly on the wrong path, listening to base stories, when Parīkṣit himself witnessed the narration that grants liberation upon hearing? The story spoken by Śuka, flowing with the stream of rasa, binds to the throat the one who recites it—and he becomes the Lord of Vaikuṇṭha. Thus, the most confidential truth, established by all doctrines, has been spoken to you at once; having surveyed the multitude of scriptures, nothing in this world is as pure as the tale of Śuka—drink, for the sake of supreme joy, the essence of the twelve books. Whoever listens to this regularly with devotion, and whoever narrates it before pure Vaiṣṇavas—both, by properly performing this act, obtain its fruit; for them, nothing in this world is unattainable in reality. Śaunaka then asked, “O Sūta, when Nārada had departed, what did the venerable Bādarāyaṇa, having understood his intent, do next?” Sūta replied, “On the western bank of the divine Sarasvatī river, there is an āśrama called Śamyāprāsa, renowned for fostering the gatherings of sages. In that āśrama, adorned with clusters of badarī trees, Vyāsa sat down, purified himself with water, and concentrated his mind by his own will. With his mind made pure and steady through devotion, he beheld the complete Person and also Māyā, who stands dependent upon Him. By Māyā, the living being, though transcendental, becomes deluded and considers himself made of the three guṇas, imagines misfortune, and accepts what is caused by her. For the cessation of these miseries, the wise Vyāsa composed the Sātvata Saṃhitā, teaching direct devotion to the Transcendent, for the benefit of those who do not know. In this scripture, when it is heard, devotion to Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Person, arises in a person, removing sorrow, delusion, and fear. Having composed this Bhāgavata Saṃhitā in proper order, the sage taught it to his son Śuka, who was devoted to renunciation. Śaunaka asked, “That sage, devoted to renunciation and indifferent to all, being self-satisfied—why did he, the self-delighted one, study this great work?” Sūta replied, “Even sages who are self-satisfied and free from all bonds perform causeless devotion to Hari, for His qualities are such. The venerable son of Badarāyaṇa, whose mind was captivated by Hari’s qualities, constantly studied the great narrative, ever dear to the devotees of Viṣṇu. Now I will describe the birth, deeds, and departure of King Parīkṣit, and the passing of the sons of Pāṇḍu, as well as the rise of Kṛṣṇa’s story. When, in the battle between the Kauravas and the Sṛñjayas, the heroes had fallen to the fate of warriors, and the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra lay with his thighs broken by the blow of Bhīma’s mace, Aśvatthāmā, desiring to please his master, committed a heinous act: he severed the heads of the sleeping sons of Kṛṣṇā, bringing only harm, an act condemned by all. Hearing of the dreadful slaughter of her sons, the mother, overwhelmed with grief, wept, her eyes brimming with tears. To console her, the one crowned with a diadem—Arjuna—spoke: “O gentle lady, I will wipe away your sorrow—by arrows released from Gāṇḍīva, I will bring you the head of that brahma-bandhu, the aggressor, so that you may bathe after cremating your sons.” Thus, having comforted his beloved with sweet and varied words, Arjuna, the son of Acyuta’s friend, with anger pursued the mighty-armed son of his teacher, his chariot bearing the banner of Hanumān. Perceiving Arjuna approaching from afar, the prince, his mind agitated, fled with his chariot across the earth, seeking to preserve his life, just as one flees from the sun out of fear of Rudra. When the twice-born son saw himself without refuge, his horses exhausted, he considered the Brahmāstra weapon as his only means of self-protection. Then, having purified himself with water, he concentrated and invoked that weapon, though he did not know how to withdraw it, as death drew near. Thereupon, a fierce and blazing energy manifested in all directions. Seeing the threat to life, Arjuna spoke to Viṣṇu: “O Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, mighty-armed one, you alone are the remover of fear for your devotees; you are the deliverance from burning suffering in this cycle of birth and death.