Once, the sages gathered at Naimiṣāraṇya began to reflect on the fate of the world in the age of Kali. They remembered with longing how Lord Kṛṣṇa, the protector of all, had once rescued Draupadī from her peril among the Kauravas and shielded the cowherd women from harm. Yet now, Kṛṣṇa had departed from the earth—where had he gone, leaving the world bereft of his divine presence? But, they reflected, one remained ever dear to Kṛṣṇa, dearer than life itself—Bhakti, devotion. Whenever Bhakti calls, the Lord comes, even to the humble homes of the lowliest people. In the earlier ages—Kṛta, Tretā, and Dvāpara—truth, knowledge, and detachment were the paths to liberation, but in the age of Kali, only Bhakti, devotion, can grant union with the Supreme. Thus, the sages understood, the ever-conscious Lord fashioned Bhakti, of his own nature, as a beautiful embodiment of supreme bliss, beloved above all by Kṛṣṇa. With folded hands, Bhakti once asked Kṛṣṇa, “What shall I do?” And Kṛṣṇa instructed her, “Nourish my devotees.” Bhakti accepted this command, and Hari, pleased, gave her Mukti—liberation—as a maidservant, and granted her two sons: Jñāna (knowledge) and Vairāgya (detachment). In Vaikuṇṭha, Bhakti nourishes devotees by her own divine form, but on earth, to sustain the devotees, she manifests a shadow-form. With Mukti, Jñāna, and Vairāgya, Bhakti descended to earth and, from the age of Kṛta through Dvāpara, they all flourished in great joy. But when Kali Yuga arrived, Mukti was destroyed, afflicted by heresy, and at Bhakti’s command, quickly returned to Vaikuṇṭha. On earth, Mukti comes and goes as Bhakti remembers, and her two sons, Jñāna and Vairāgya, remain by her side, protected. Yet, in Kali Yuga, because of neglect, these two sons became weak and old. But there was no need for worry, for a remedy would be found. “O beautiful one,” it was declared, “there is no age like Kali! In this age, I will establish you, Bhakti, 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.” Yet those who are accompanied by Bhakti in Kali—even if sinful—will approach Krishna’s temple without fear. Those whose hearts are always filled with loving devotion are untouched by impurity; not even in dreams can evil beings harm them. Neither ghosts, spirits, demons, nor asuras can overpower those whose minds are endowed with devotion, not even by touch. Hari is not attained by austerities, nor by the Vedas, nor by knowledge or actions—only by devotion, as the gopīs themselves have shown. After thousands of human births, love for devotion may arise, but in Kali Yuga, devotion alone brings Krishna directly before the devotee. Those who are hostile to devotion sink in all three worlds, as Durvāsā once suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough of vows, pilgrimages, yogas, sacrifices, and philosophical debates—devotion alone grants liberation. As Sūta narrated, upon hearing these truths about herself, as determined by Nārada, Bhakti, radiant 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 suffering was dispelled in an instant. Yet my two sons lack consciousness—therefore, awaken them, awaken them!” Hearing her plea, Nārada was filled with compassion. He began to rouse the two, gently rubbing them with his fingertips. Placing his mouth near their ears, he called out loudly, “O Jñāna, awaken quickly! O Vairāgya, awaken!” With repeated recitations of the Vedas, Vedānta, and the Gītā, he tried to awaken them, and with great effort, they stirred and slowly rose. Yet both were unable to open their eyes, yawning and weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing them, gaunt from hunger and again slipping into sleep, Nārada became thoughtful, pondering what could be done. He wondered, “How does such sleep come, and how does such old age arise?” Deep in contemplation, he recalled Govinda. At that very moment, a voice resounded from the sky: “O sage, do not be distressed. Your effort will bear fruit, without 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 will at once depart from those two, and devotion will spread everywhere.” All present heard the clear voice from the sky, and Nārada, amazed, said, “This was not known to me.” He wondered aloud, “Even by this celestial speech, the matter is kept secret. What is that means, what action must be done, by which their purpose may be fulfilled? Where will the virtuous ones be found, how will they give the means? What must I do here, as spoken by the voice from the sky?” Sūta continued: Having settled Jñāna and Vairāgya there, the sage Nārada departed, travelling from one holy place to another, inquiring of the great sages he met along the way. The tale was heard by all, but after much deliberation, none could answer. Some said it was impossible, others said it was difficult to understand; some grew silent, and a few even fled. A great commotion arose in the three worlds, causing wonder, as the Vedas, Vedānta, and the Gītā were proclaimed aloud. Yet when devotion, knowledge, and detachment failed to arise together, people whispered from ear to ear, “There is no other means.” Even Nārada, the great yogi, could not understand; how, then, could others among men reveal the answer?