Once, the Supreme Consciousness, having resolved to bring forth joy, created you—a being of the same divine essence—manifesting as a beautiful form of supreme bliss, beloved by Kṛṣṇa Himself. With hands joined in reverence, you approached Kṛṣṇa and asked, “What is my purpose? What shall I do?” Kṛṣṇa, with gentle instruction, replied, “Nourish my devotees.” You accepted this command with devotion, and Hari was pleased by your obedience. In His delight, He bestowed upon you Mukti—liberation—as your attendant, and entrusted to you Jñāna (knowledge) and Vairāgya (renunciation) as your companions. In Vaikuṇṭha, the divine realm, you nourish devotees by your own radiant form; but when you descend to earth to nurture the faithful, you manifest in a shadow-like form, adapted to this world. Thus, accompanied by Mukti, Jñāna, and Vairāgya, you came to earth, and in great joy, you remained from the age of Kṛta through Dvāpara, nourishing the devotees. Yet, when the age of Kali arrived, Mukti was overcome and destroyed by heresy; at your command, she quickly returned to Vaikuṇṭha. Here on earth, liberation comes and goes according to your remembrance, and Jñāna and Vairāgya—your sons—remain under your protection. But in this Kali age, due to neglect, your two sons have become weak and old. Still, you are told not to worry, for a way will be found. “O beautiful one,” it is said, “there is no age like Kali. In this time, I will establish you in every home, among all people. Setting aside other duties and making way for great festivals, I will not serve Hari directly, nor will I spread you throughout the world as before. Yet, those living beings who are accompanied by you in this Kali age—even if sinful—will go without fear to the temple of Kṛṣṇa. For those whose hearts are always filled with devotion in the form of love, no impure being can harm them—not even in dreams. Neither ghosts, spirits, demons, nor even 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; the gopīs themselves are proof of this. After thousands of human births, love for devotion finally arises; but in Kali, devotion alone brings Kṛṣṇa before you. Those who are hostile to devotion sink in all three worlds—remember how even Durvāsā suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough of vows, pilgrimages, yogas, sacrifices, and endless discussions on knowledge—devotion alone grants liberation.” Sūta continued: Hearing this revelation about her own true nature, as determined by Nārada, Bhakti, now radiant with auspiciousness, spoke to Nārada: “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 your grace my affliction was destroyed in an instant. But my two sons lack consciousness—therefore, awaken them, awaken them!” Hearing her words, Nārada was filled with compassion. He began to awaken the two, gently rubbing them with his fingertips. Placing his mouth close to their ears, he called out loudly, “O Jñāna, awaken quickly! O Vairāgya, awaken!” Repeatedly reciting the Vedas, the Vedānta, and the Gītā, he strove to rouse them, and with much effort, they managed to stir. Yet both, unable to open their eyes, yawned, weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing them so emaciated by hunger, again lapsing into sleep, the sage became thoughtful, pondering what should be done. “How has such sleep and old age come upon them?” he wondered, and began to recall Govinda in his heart. At that very moment, a 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 will depart from those two at once, and devotion will spread everywhere.” All present heard this clear voice from the sky, and Nārada was amazed, saying, “This was not known to me. Even by this celestial speech, the matter remains hidden. What is that means, what action must be done, by which their purpose may be fulfilled? Where will the virtuous ones be found, and how will they reveal the means? What must I do here, as spoken by the voice from above?” Sūta continued: Having settled Jñāna and Vairāgya there, the sage Nārada departed, wandering from one holy place to another, asking the great sages along the way. The account was heard by all, but after deliberation, none could provide an answer. Some declared it impossible, others thought it too difficult to understand; some fell silent, and a few even fled. A great commotion arose in the three worlds, a wonder awakened by the proclamations of the Vedas, Vedānta, and recitations of the Gītā. Yet, when the triad of devotion, knowledge, and detachment did not arise, 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 explain it? Thus, when questioned by groups of sages, it was determined and declared to be inaccessible. Troubled by concern, Nārada retreated to the Badarī forest, resolved to undertake austerity for the sake of this purpose. At that time, before him appeared the great sages Sanaka and his brothers, shining like millions of suns. The foremost among them prepared to speak, and Nārada listened with hope and reverence, awaiting the wisdom that would dispel his doubts.