Birth is suffering, old age is suffering, and death itself is suffering; even to dwell in the mother’s womb is suffering, surrounded by filth and urine—such is the truth of embodied existence. The pain that arises from craving and greed is immense, and among all forms of hardship, begging is the most bitter, more dreadful even than death itself. Brahmins who live by accepting gifts do not sustain themselves through wisdom, for dependence is the greatest sorrow, and with each day, death draws nearer. Even after mastering the Vedas and all the scriptures, the wise must approach the wealthy and praise them, seeking their needs with humility. But what real worry is there for one who needs only enough to fill a single stomach? Leaves, roots, or fruits—whatever is found, with contentment—are enough. Yet, when a person has a large family—wife, sons, and grandsons—then great suffering arises in providing for them. Where, Father, is that wondrous happiness people speak of? Therefore, teach me the science of yoga and the knowledge that brings true happiness. I find no delight in the entirety of ritualistic action. Tell me, I pray, the method by which karma—be it prarabdha, accumulated, or presently arising—may be destroyed, so that the root of all threefold karma may be dissolved. Just as a leech always drinks blood, so too does a woman draw from her partner; but the fool, deluded by attachment, does not see this truth. Through pleasures, strength, wealth, and a mind full of crooked words, one’s beloved takes away everything—what other thief is there like this? For the sake of destroying even the happiness of sleep, the fool gathers wives, deceived by fate, acting only for sorrow, not for happiness. Sūta said: Hearing such words from both Vyāsa and Śuka, Vyāsa was seized by deep anxiety, uncertain what he should do. Tears born of sorrow flowed from his eyes, his body trembled, and his mind became weary. Seeing his father so distressed and overwhelmed by grief, Śuka, his eyes wide with wonder, spoke to Vyāsa: “Ah, how fierce is the power of Māyā, which bewilders even the wise—the very author of Vedānta, the all-knowing knower of the Vedas! I do not know what this Māyā is, nor how exceedingly difficult she is, that she bewilders even you, learned Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī. He who is the speaker of the Purāṇas, the composer of the Bhārata, the arranger of the Vedas—even he has fallen into delusion. I seek refuge in that Goddess who bewilders the world, and even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva, and others—what then of ordinary beings? Is there anyone in the three worlds who is not deluded by Māyā, by whose power even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva, and others were once bewildered? Ah, what strength, what power has been created by the Goddess! Even the all-knowing Lord has been subdued by Māyā alone. The Purāṇikas say you, Vyāsa, were born from the line of Viṣṇu; yet even you, like a merchant whose boat is broken, are sunk in the ocean of delusion. Today, helpless like an ordinary man, you shed tears—this power of Māyā is hard to abandon, even for the learned. Who is this? Who am I? How is this, and what is this confusion? In this body made of five elements, the notions of ‘father’ and ‘son’ arise. Truly, this Māyā is powerful, the deluder even of magicians; overpowered by her, even Kṛṣṇa, the twice-born, weeps.” Sūta continued: Bowing in mind to the Goddess, the cause of all causes, the mother and sovereign of all the gods, including Brahmā and the rest, Śuka spoke to his father Vyāsa—who was born from the fire-sticks, now miserable and submerged in the ocean of grief—words full of wisdom and auspiciousness: “O highly fortunate son of Parāśara, you are yourself the giver of understanding to all; why do you grieve, master, like an ordinary man ignorant of the truth? Today I am your son, but I do not know who I was in a previous birth; who am I, and who are you, O blessed one? This is confusion, O great soul. Be steadfast, awaken, and do not let your mind fall into despair; recognizing this as a net of delusion, abandon sorrow, O wise one. Hunger is appeased by food, not by seeing one’s son; thirst is quenched by drinking water, not by beholding one’s own child. The nose delights in fragrance, the ear in hearing; a woman’s pleasure is with a woman—so, being your son, what can I do for you? Even a son was given by Ajīgarta to King Hariścandra for the sake of cattle and for sacrifice, sold for a price in every way. Wealth is the means to happiness, and happiness is gathered from riches; if you seek wealth out of greed, then what can I, your son, do for you? Instruct me with your wisdom, for you are learned in destiny, O wise one, so that I may be completely freed from the fear of the womb, O sage. Human birth is difficult to obtain in this world of action, O sinless one; and even among humans, to be born a Brāhmaṇa in a noble family is indeed rare. Yet the thought that I am bound does not depart from my mind; it is firmly established and grows within the net of worldly desires.” Sūta said: Thus addressed by his son of boundless intellect, Vyāsa replied to Śuka, who was serene and intent on the fourth stage of life: “Recite, O blessed son, the Bhāgavata composed by me, auspicious and not overly extensive—a Purāṇa esteemed by the wise as equal to the Veda. It contains twelve books and is endowed with the five characteristics; among all the Purāṇas, it is regarded by me as the ornament. By merely hearing this Bhāgavata, knowledge of the real and unreal, and true understanding, arise; therefore, recite it, O wise one.