O sage, hear now the tale as it unfolded: Liberation, as you know, comes and goes in this world according to remembrance, and the two—Knowledge (Jñāna) and Renunciation (Vairāgya)—who are your very sons, remain under your protection at your side. Yet, because of long neglect, these two sons have grown weak and aged in this dark age of Kali. But do not be anxious; I will find a way. There is no age like Kali. In that time, I shall establish you, O Bhakti, in every home, among all people. Even as other duties are set aside and great festivals are given priority, in that age I will not serve Hari, nor will I spread you throughout the world. Still, those living beings who are accompanied by you—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, nor spirits, nor demons, nor even asuras can overpower those whose minds are endowed with devotion, not even by touch. Not by austerities, not by the Vedas, nor by knowledge or actions, is Hari attained—only by devotion. The gopīs themselves are proof of this. After thousands of human births, love for devotion arises; but in Kali, devotion, devotion—by devotion alone, Krishna stands before you. Those who are hostile to devotion sink in all three worlds; once, even Durvāsā suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough of vows, enough of pilgrimages, enough of yogas, enough of sacrifices, enough of learned discussions—devotion alone grants liberation. Sūta continued: Hearing thus the true nature of herself as determined by Nārada, Bhakti, endowed with all auspiciousness, spoke to him. She said, “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 words, Nārada was filled with compassion. He began to awaken the two, gently rubbing them with his fingertips. Placing his mouth near their ears, he loudly called, “O Jñāna, awaken quickly! O Vairāgya, awaken!” He recited repeatedly the Vedas, Vedānta, and the Gītā, trying with great effort to rouse them. At last, they somehow stirred, but both were unable to open their eyes. They yawned, weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing the two, emaciated by hunger and again sinking into sleep, the sage became thoughtful, pondering what should be done. “Ah, how does sleep come, and how does such old age arise?” he wondered, and began to recall Govinda in his heart. At that very moment, a voice from the sky spoke: “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.” Everyone heard the clear voice from the sky, and Nārada was amazed, saying, “This was not known to me. 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, and how will they give the means? What must I do, as spoken by the heavenly voice?” Sūta continued: Having settled the two sons there, Nārada departed, going from one holy place to another, asking the great sages along the way. All heard his account, but after much deliberation, none could answer. Some said it was impossible, others said it was difficult to understand; some remained silent, and a few even fled. A great commotion arose in the three worlds, causing wonder; the Vedas, Vedānta, and the recitations of the Gītā echoed everywhere. Yet, when the triad of devotion, knowledge, and detachment did not arise, people whispered from ear to ear, “There is no other means.” If even Nārada, the great yogi, did not understand, how could others among men speak of it? Thus, questioned by groups of sages, it was determined and declared to be inaccessible. Troubled by concern, Nārada came at last to the Badarī forest, resolved to undertake austerity there for this purpose. At that time, he beheld before him the great sages Sanaka and his brothers, shining like millions of suns. The foremost sage among them spoke, and Nārada, filled with awe, said, “Now, by great fortune, I have met you. O Kumāras, please speak quickly, showing compassion to me. You are yogis, wise and learned, endowed with fivefold restraint, and ancestors even of the earliest ones. You always dwell in Vaikuntha, devoted to singing the praises of Hari, intoxicated by the nectar of his pastimes, living solely for the sake of his stories. “For those whose mouths constantly utter the name of Hari as their sole refuge, old age, decreed by time, does not trouble them. By merely a frown from you, the two gatekeepers of Hari once instantly fell at your feet; by your compassion, they returned to the city. Ah, by the fortune of yoga, I have gained your sight here; you, full of compassion, ought to show grace to me, who am destitute.” Thus, seeking their guidance, Nārada approached the Kumāras, yearning for the means to revive Knowledge and Renunciation, and to restore the glory of Bhakti in the world.