The Lord, pleased by the heartfelt narration and praise offered to Him, spoke with gentle affection: “Ask from Me a boon, whatever your heart desires. Your devotion has delighted Me at this very moment.” Hearing these gracious words, the devotees, their hearts overflowing with love and joy, addressed Hari with reverence. They said, “May You always be remembered with devotion in all the songs sung by the mountains and serpents, and by all Your devotees everywhere. This is our only wish—please fulfill it.” Smiling, Acyuta replied, “So be it,” and then vanished from their sight. Nārada, along with Śuka and the other ascetics, bowed deeply at the Lord’s feet. Their hearts rejoiced, all confusion and delusion dispelled by the divine presence. Having tasted the nectar of the Lord’s story, they departed, filled with contentment. The devotion that was thus protected, along with his sons, was carefully preserved by Śuka, even within his own scripture. In this way, by serving the Bhāgavata, the minds of the Vaiṣṇavas are irresistibly drawn to Hari. For those suffering from poverty, distress, and fever, for those crushed by the demon of illusion and cast into the ocean of worldly existence, the Bhāgavata resounds as a blessing, bringing them well-being. At this point, Śaunaka, the sage, inquired, “When did Śuka narrate this story to the king? When did Gokarṇa speak it again? When did the sage among the gods teach it to the Brāhmaṇas? Please, Sūta, clear this doubt from my mind.” Sūta replied, “Thirty years after Lord Kṛṣṇa’s departure, when the age of 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, two hundred years into Kali, on a pure and auspicious ninth day, Gokarṇa, born of a cow, recited the story once more. Then, when Kali had advanced by another thirty years, on the ninth day of the bright half of Kārtika, the sons of Brahmā recited it again. Thus, O sinless one, I have described to you what you asked: how the Bhāgavata was spoken in the age of Kali, destroying the disease of worldly existence. This narration, so 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—what need is there for pilgrimage or ritual service in this world? Even when Yama, the lord of death, sees his own servant holding the noose, he whispers in his ear: ‘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 attained liberation simply by hearing this narration? The story spoken by Śuka, flowing with the stream of divine rasa, binds the one who recites it to the Lord Himself—he becomes the Lord of Vaikuṇṭha. Thus, the most confidential truth, established by all doctrines, has been revealed to you; 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 these 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. 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 sacred Sarasvatī river, there is an āśrama called Śamyāprāsa, renowned for the gatherings of sages. In that āśrama, adorned with clusters of badarī trees, Vyāsa sat down, purified himself with water, and focused his mind by his own will. With his mind purified and made steady through devotion, Vyāsa beheld the complete Person—Puruṣa—and Māyā, who stands dependent upon Him. By her influence, the living being, though transcendental, becomes deluded, considers himself to be 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 Supreme, for the benefit of those who do not know. In this scripture, when it is heard, devotion to Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Person, arises in the listener, 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 wondered, “That sage, so devoted to renunciation and indifferent to all, being self-satisfied—why did he, the self-delighted one, study this great work?” Sūta explained, “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 great battle between the Kauravas and the Sṛñjayas, the heroes had fallen to the fate of warriors, the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra lay with his thighs broken by the blow of Bhīma’s mace. Seeing this, 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. Upon hearing of this dreadful slaughter, the mother, overwhelmed with grief, wept, her eyes brimming with tears. To console her, the one crowned with a diadem—Arjuna—spoke gently: ‘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, Aśvatthāmā, his mind agitated, fled with his chariot across the earth, desperately 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. Purifying 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 this threat to life, Arjuna spoke to Viṣṇu in prayer: ‘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. You are the original person, the direct Lord, transcendent over nature; casting aside illusion by your power of consciousness, you remain established in the Self, in oneness. By your own strength, you bestow the highest good, marked by dharma and other virtues, upon the living beings whose minds are deluded by your māyā. Thus, this incarnation of yours has appeared on earth to relieve its burden, and repeatedly for the constant meditation of your own devoted ones.