Nārada, seeing Bhakti’s two sons—Jñāna and Vairāgya—weak and aged in the era of Kali, spoke gently to her, “Do not worry. Though your sons have become frail and old from neglect in this age, I will find a way to restore them.” He assured her, “O beautiful one, there is no age like Kali. In this time, I will establish you, Bhakti, in every home among all people.” He reflected further, “Setting aside other duties and giving priority to great festivals, in that age, I will not serve Hari, nor will I spread you throughout the world.” Yet, he promised, “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, nor spirits, nor demons, nor even asuras, can overpower those whose minds are endowed with devotion, even by touch.” Nārada continued, “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 arises; but in Kali, devotion, devotion—by devotion alone, Krishna stands before you. Those who are hostile to devotion sink in all three worlds; even the sage Durvāsā once suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough of vows, enough of pilgrimages, enough of yogas, enough of sacrifices, enough of discussions on knowledge—devotion alone grants liberation.” Sūta then spoke, “Hearing the true nature of herself as described by Nārada, Bhakti, radiant with auspiciousness, addressed 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 suffering was dispelled in an instant. My two sons lack consciousness—therefore, awaken them, awaken them.’” Moved by her words, Nārada’s heart filled with compassion. He began to awaken 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 rouse them, and with effort, they somehow stirred. Yet both, unable to open their eyes, yawned, weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing the two, emaciated by hunger and again slipping into sleep, Nārada became thoughtful, pondering what he should do. “Ah,” he wondered, “how does sleep come, and how does such old age arise?” Contemplating thus, he began to recall Govinda. At that very moment, a voice from the sky declared, “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 this clear, celestial voice. Nārada, amazed, said, “This was not known to me.” He wondered aloud, “Even by this divine speech, the matter remains secret. What is the 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, “Having settled the two there, sage Nārada departed, traveling from one holy place to another, asking the great sages he met along the way. The account was heard by all, but after deliberation, none could answer. Some said it was impossible, others said it was difficult to understand; some became silent, and a few even fled. A great commotion arose in the three worlds, causing wonder, as the Vedas, Vedānta, and Gītā were proclaimed aloud. 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 yogi, could not understand; how then could others among men explain it? Questioned by groups of sages, it was determined and declared to be inaccessible.” Troubled by concern, Nārada finally came to the forest of Badarī, resolved to undertake austerity there for the sake of Bhakti’s sons. There, before him, he beheld the great sages Sanaka and his brothers, shining like millions of suns. The foremost of them spoke, and Nārada, filled with hope, 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 Vaikuntha, devoted to singing the praises of Hari, intoxicated by the nectar of his pastimes, you live 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, those gatekeepers 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. That which was spoken by the bodiless voice—what is the means for it? Please explain in detail how it is to be practiced.