For those whose hearts overflow constantly with devotion in the form of pure love, no impure being can ever harm them—not even in dreams. Such is the protective power of devotion that neither ghosts, nor spirits, nor demons, nor even the mighty asuras can overpower those whose minds are graced by devotion, not even by the slightest touch. Indeed, Hari, the Supreme Lord, cannot be attained through austerities, nor by deep study of the Vedas, nor by knowledge or ritual actions—only by devotion is He reached. The gopīs themselves stand as living proof of this truth. After thousands of births in the human realm, the rare jewel of love for devotion arises. Yet, in the present age of Kali, devotion alone—devotion, devotion!—is the means by which Krishna reveals Himself before you. Those who are hostile to devotion find themselves sinking in all the three worlds. Even the great sage Durvāsā once suffered misery for insulting a devotee. Enough, then, of vows, pilgrimages, yogic practices, sacrifices, and endless philosophical debates—devotion alone bestows liberation. Sūta continued: When she heard these truths about herself, as revealed by the sage Nārada, Devotion—endowed with all auspiciousness—spoke gratefully to Nārada. She said, “O Nārada, how blessed you are! Your love for me never wavers. I will never abandon you; I shall always dwell in your heart. O compassionate sage, by your grace my suffering was destroyed in an instant. Yet my two sons, Knowledge and Detachment, remain unconscious. Please, awaken them, awaken them!” Hearing her plea, Nārada’s heart overflowed with compassion. He approached the two sons and began to gently rouse them, rubbing them with his fingertips. Placing his mouth close to their ears, he called out loudly, “O Jñāna, awaken quickly! O Vairāgya, awaken!” With repeated recitations from the Vedas, Vedānta, and the Gītā, Nārada strove to awaken them. With great effort, the two somehow managed to rise. Yet they could barely open their eyes; they yawned, weak as herons, their bodies gray and withered like dry wood. Seeing Knowledge and Detachment so emaciated, again slipping into sleep, the sage became thoughtful, pondering deeply what he ought to do. “How do sleep and such old age come upon them?” he wondered. Contemplating thus, Bhārgava began to recall Govinda, the Lord. At that very moment, a voice from the sky resounded: “O sage, do not be distressed. Your effort will surely 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 the clear voice from the sky, and Nārada was astonished, confessing, “This was not known to me.” He said, “Even by this celestial speech, the matter remains a mystery. 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, as spoken by the voice from the sky?” Sūta explained: Having settled Knowledge and Detachment there, the sage Nārada set out, journeying from one holy place to another, seeking counsel from the great sages he met along the way. The account was heard by all, but after much deliberation, none could offer an answer. Some said it was impossible, others found it too difficult to comprehend; some fell silent, and a few even fled. A great commotion arose throughout the three worlds, as the matter was proclaimed and discussed, with the Vedas, Vedānta, and recitations of the Gītā echoing everywhere. Yet, when the triad of devotion, knowledge, and detachment failed to arise, people whispered from ear to ear, “There is no other means.” Even the yogi Nārada was unable to understand, so how could others among men hope to explain it? Thus, the assembly of sages determined and declared the means to be inaccessible. Troubled and concerned, Nārada journeyed to the sacred Badarī forest, resolved to undertake austerities there for the sake of this purpose. It was then, before his very eyes, that he saw the great sages—the Sanaka Kumāras—shining like millions of suns. The foremost among them spoke, and Nārada, overwhelmed with gratitude, addressed them: “Now, by great fortune, I have met you. O Kumāras, please, speak quickly and show compassion to me. All of you are yogis, wise and learned, endowed with fivefold restraint, and ancestors even of the earliest beings. You ever 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 divine 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. How does happiness arise for those endowed with devotion, knowledge, and detachment? How can it be established among all classes, with love and effort?” The Kumāras replied, “Do not be anxious, O divine sage; bring joy into your heart. The means, easily accomplished, already exists here. Ah, Nārada, you are blessed, the crest-jewel among the detached, always the foremost among the servants of Sri Krishna, the sun among yogis. It is not surprising in you, who always follow the path of devotion, that the establishment of devotion is ever accomplished for Krishna's servant.