In an age when wisdom seemed lost, the learned, though skilled in the art of producing sons and delighting in family life, were compared to buffaloes—content with worldly pleasures, yet lacking the skill to seek true liberation. Nowhere, not even among the leaders of spiritual traditions, could the essence of true Vaiṣṇavism be found; everywhere, the real substance of spiritual life had vanished. Yet, this was simply the nature of the times—the age itself was to blame, and none could be faulted. Thus, the compassionate Lotus-eyed Lord, ever enduring, remained nearby, silently witnessing the plight of the world. At this moment, Sūta narrated, those assembled listened with great wonder. Then Bhakti herself spoke again, addressing Śaunaka: “Let this, too, be heard.” Bhakti said, “O sage among the gods, you are truly blessed, for by my good fortune you have come here. The very sight of the virtuous in this world bestows all perfections. Victory, victory to Him whose divine body is the very basis of illusion, who, by a single utterance, creates all speech! By His grace, Dhruva attained the eternal state. I bow to the son of Brahmā, the vessel of all auspiciousness.” As the second chapter began, Sūta described the glory of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam and Nārada’s effort to relieve Bhakti’s suffering. Nārada gently asked, “Child, why do you grieve in vain, so troubled by anxiety? Remember the lotus feet of Śrī Kṛṣṇa—your sorrow will depart. Was it not He who rescued Draupadī from her calamity among the Kauravas and protected the cowherd women? Where has that Kṛṣṇa gone now?” He continued, “But you, Bhakti, are always dearer to Him than life itself. When you call, the Lord comes even to the houses of the lowly. In the first three ages, truth, knowledge, and detachment are the means to liberation; but in the age of Kali, only Bhakti grants union with Brahman. Recognizing this, the all-conscious Lord created you, of the same nature, as a beautiful form of supreme bliss, beloved of Kṛṣṇa.” Nārada recalled, “With folded hands, you once asked, ‘What shall I do?’ Then Kṛṣṇa instructed you: ‘Nourish my devotees.’ You accepted that command, and Hari was pleased. He gave you Mukti, or Liberation, as your maidservant, and these two—Jñāna (Knowledge) and Vairāgya (Renunciation)—as your companions. In Vaikuṇṭha, you nourish by your own divine form; on earth, to sustain devotees, you manifest a shadow-form.” “With Mukti, Jñāna, and Vairāgya, you came to earth, and dwelled in great joy from the beginning of Kṛta Yuga until the end of Dvāpara. But in Kali, Mukti was destroyed, afflicted by heresy; by your command, she quickly returned again to Vaikuṇṭha. Liberation comes and goes here as you remember, and these two, whom you made your sons, are protected at your own side. Yet, because of neglect, your two sons have become weak and old in this age of Kali. Do not worry—I will devise a way.” “O beautiful one,” Nārada assured, “there is no age like Kali; in this age, I will establish you in every home, among all people. Setting aside other duties and giving priority to great festivals, at that time, I will not serve Hari, nor will I spread you in the world. But those living beings who are accompanied by you in this Kali age—even if sinful—will go without fear to Krishna’s temple. For those whose hearts are always filled with devotion in the form of love, impure beings cannot harm them, not even in dreams. Neither ghosts, spirits, demons, nor even asuras can overpower those whose minds are endowed with devotion, even by touch. Neither by austere practices, nor by the Vedas, nor by knowledge or actions, is Hari attained—only by devotion; the gopīs themselves are the proof of this. After thousands of human births, love for devotion arises; in Kali, devotion, devotion—by devotion, Krishna stands before you. Those who are hostile to devotion sink in all three worlds; even Durvāsā once suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough of vows, pilgrimages, yogas, sacrifices, and discussions on knowledge—devotion alone grants liberation.” Sūta continued: Hearing thus the true nature of herself as revealed by Nārada, Bhakti, now endowed with all auspiciousness, spoke to the sage: “O Nārada, how blessed you are! Your love for me is unwavering. I will never leave you; I will always remain in your heart. O compassionate sage, by you my affliction was destroyed in an instant. But my two sons lack consciousness—therefore, awaken them, awaken them.” Hearing her plea, Nārada was filled with compassion. He began to awaken the two, rubbing them gently with his fingertips. Placing his mouth near their ears, he loudly called, “O Jñāna, awaken quickly! O Vairāgya, awaken!” With repeated recitations of the Vedas, Vedānta, and the Gītā, he tried to rouse them, and with great effort, they somehow rose. But both, unable to open their eyes, yawned, weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing them so emaciated by hunger and again slipping into sleep, the sage grew thoughtful, pondering what more he could do. He wondered, “How does such deep sleep come? How does such old age arise?” Contemplating thus, Bhārgava began to recall Govinda. At that very moment, a clear voice resounded from the sky: “O sage, do not be distressed. Your effort will bear fruit; there is no doubt. For this purpose, O sage among the gods, perform virtuous deeds. The noble ones, adorned with virtue, will declare your action. When that virtuous act is performed, sleep and old age in those two will depart at once, and devotion will spread everywhere.” All present heard the celestial voice, and Nārada, amazed, exclaimed, “This was not known to me.