In the sacred realm of Vaikuṇṭha, the Lord sustains all beings by His own divine form. Yet, when He descends to earth, He takes on a shadow-form, appearing in a way that nourishes His devotees here. Accompanied by Mukti (Liberation), Jñāna (Knowledge), and Vairāgya (Detachment), the Lord graced the earth, remaining in great joy from the age of Kṛta, through the ages, until the end of Dvāpara. But as the dark age of Kali dawned, Mukti herself was afflicted by heresy and, by the Lord’s command, quickly returned to Vaikuṇṭha. Liberation comes and goes in this world according to the Lord’s will, and Jñāna and Vairāgya, whom He regards as His sons, are ever protected by His side. Yet, in Kali Yuga, these two sons have become weak and aged through neglect. Still, the Lord assures, “Do not worry—I will find a way.” He declares, “O beautiful one, there is no age like Kali. In this age, I will establish you, Bhakti (Devotion), in every home and among all people. Setting aside other duties, giving priority to grand festivals, in that time, I will not serve Hari, nor will I spread you throughout the world as before. Yet, those who are accompanied by you in this 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 can do no harm, not even in dreams. Neither ghosts, spirits, demons, nor asuras can overpower those whose minds are endowed with devotion, not even by touch.” The Lord continues, “Hari is not attained by austerities, nor by the Vedas, nor by knowledge or actions—only by devotion. The gopīs are living proof of this. After thousands of human births, love for devotion arises; but in Kali, by devotion alone, Krishna stands before you. Those hostile to devotion sink in all three worlds; even Durvāsā once suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough of vows, pilgrimages, yogas, sacrifices, and endless discussions on knowledge—devotion alone grants liberation.” Hearing these words, Sūta said, Bhakti herself, endowed with all 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 you my affliction was destroyed in an instant. But my two sons lack consciousness—please, awaken them, awaken them!” Moved by her words, Nārada was filled with compassion. Gently, he began to rouse the two, Jñāna and Vairāgya, 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 somehow rose. Yet, both were so feeble they could barely open their eyes; they yawned, weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing Jñāna and Vairāgya so emaciated and again slipping into sleep, the sage became thoughtful, pondering what should be done. “How does such sleep and old age arise?” he wondered. Contemplating thus, Bhārgava 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 in those two will depart at once, and devotion will spread everywhere.” All present heard the clear voice from the sky, and Nārada was amazed, saying to himself, “This was not known to me.” He then asked aloud, “Even with this celestial speech, the matter remains secret. 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 give the means? What must I do here, as spoken by the voice from the sky?” Sūta continued: Nārada, having settled Jñāna and Vairāgya where they were, departed and traveled from one holy place to another, seeking out the great sages and asking them along the way. The account was heard by all, but after much deliberation, none could answer. Some said it was impossible, others said it was difficult to understand; some fell silent, and a few even fled from the question. A great commotion arose in the three worlds, and wonder spread everywhere, 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; so how could others among men possibly explain it? Thus, questioned by groups of sages, it was declared that the means was inaccessible. Troubled and concerned, Nārada journeyed to the forest of Badarī, resolved to undertake austerity there for the sake of finding the answer. At that time, before him appeared the great sages Sanaka and his brothers, shining like millions of suns. The foremost sage spoke, and Nārada, overjoyed, said, “Now, by great fortune, I have met you. O Kumāras, please speak quickly, showing compassion to me. All of you are yogis, wise and learned, endowed with fivefold restraint, and ancestors even of the earliest ones. Always dwelling in Vaikuṇṭha, devoted to singing the praises of Hari, intoxicated by the nectar of his pastimes, you live solely for the sake of his stories.” Thus, Nārada approached the enlightened Kumāras, seeking the secret by which devotion, knowledge, and detachment may be awakened in this age of Kali.