Hear now the sacred teaching: Even one who is burdened by passion and sin, if he is graced with repentance and a heart free from desire, may find a path to liberation. Whether a person is entangled in great sins or all manner of faults, if he fixes his mind upon Narayana—the flawless, universal form—he finds hope. Narayana, also called Hari or Vishnu, may be remembered, worshipped, meditated upon, or simply saluted; even if this worship arises through the influence of others or by mere chance, a single remembrance of Vishnu is enough to destroy the mountain of accumulated afflictions. O best of sages, consider the rare gift of human birth, so difficult to attain in this world. Having gained this precious life, which passes as swiftly as a flash of lightning, one should not squander the opportunity. By turning the mind to Hari, all obstacles are removed and purity of heart arises. The eternal purposes of human life—dharma (righteousness), artha (wealth), kama (desire), and moksha (liberation)—are to be pursued wisely. Though people may seek sons, spouses, homes, land, riches, and food, the wise abandon desire, anger, greed, delusion, and pride. Let all occupations be set aside in favor of worshipping Janardana, the Lord of all beings. Before death arrives, before old age overtakes the body, one should not place trust in this perishable form. Knowing that the body is ever close to death, cast aside arrogance and, O fortunate one, devote yourself to Janardana. Even the gravest sinner, if he worships Vishnu with devotion, finds his burdens lightened. All holy places, sacrifices, and even the Vedas themselves—what use are these without devotion to Vishnu? Of what value are austerities, vows, or scriptures to those who lack faith in Him? It is those mortals who attain the imperishable abode—known through the Vedanta and as the true physician for the disease of worldly existence—who find peace. Remembering the supreme, imperishable light, one approaches the Lord as a friend returns to a beloved companion. Now, O sage, let me speak of the path of Yama, the lord of death—a journey most difficult, bringing happiness to the virtuous and terror to the sinful. The ancient seers have described the vast expanse of this path. Those devoid of righteousness, greatly afflicted and miserable, must travel it. Sinners, wailing and distressed, endure the journey in full, struck by Yama’s attendants with whips and weapons. Along this dreadful way are blazing fires and sharp stones; deep, pitch-dark caves and thickets of thorns await. The ground is scattered with gravel and clods, thorns as sharp as needles pierce the feet. In some places, wild beasts roar; elsewhere, burning fevers torment the travelers. The sinners cry out in anguish, weeping and withering away, as they are struck from behind by weapons and the force of their own misdeeds. Burdened with heavy loads of iron, they move forward, heads bowed in sorrow. Some carry their burdens with their ears, some are swollen beyond recognition, others have umbrella-like eyes. They grieve over their actions, both those done knowingly and in ignorance. Yet, for those endowed with great happiness, who have lived righteously, the path leads instead to the shining abode of righteousness. Thus is the journey after death described: the fruits of one’s heart and deeds guiding the soul toward suffering or blessedness.