Once, a notorious bandit, together with his companions, returned to his hideout. On another occasion, following the same path, he arrived at Gudakandola. There, a traveler bearing a heavy load reached the region of Kakimandala. The bandit, fearless and violent, suddenly accosted the traveler and seized a lump of jaggery that belonged to a honey seller. The robbers broke apart the lump of jaggery, dividing it among themselves. Meanwhile, King Urvīśu came upon the spot where a cart made of jaggery stood. The king approached the jaggery cart and, reflecting deeply, remembered a promise he had once made: “That offering was given by me to Murāri.” With this in mind, he resolved that he could not accept the jaggery for himself in this life. Instead, he decided to give the jaggery as an offering. Urvīśu gave the jaggery to a Brahmin, seeking to please Mādhava. Despite his past as a great sinner, his devotion was recognized. At once, Janārdana, pleased by this act, removed all of Urvīśu’s sins. On that same day, the Brahmin entered the great forest. Soon after, the townspeople, angered by Urvīśu’s actions, slew him. Yet, the Lord sent a golden chariot to fetch him, dispatching messengers adorned with beautiful ornaments. These divine messengers approached Urvīśu, who had departed from this world, and placed him in the chariot. They journeyed swiftly to Hari’s city, where Urvīśu attained the presence of Hari, the best among the virtuous. For a hundred ages, Urvīśu remained in the presence of Keśava. There, he attained supreme knowledge and ultimately entered into the form of Hari. Vyāsa then spoke: “By whatever means a person cultivates devotion to Hari, he crosses the ocean of worldly existence, just as a royal swan glides across the waters. Even if devotion to Hari arises for a moment in someone’s mind, that person attains the supreme abode—even a sinner may reach it. If one offers even a single excellent thing to Murāri, one must later partake of it for the pacification of sin. Whatever is given to Hari should also be given to a twice-born; whatever remains should not be consumed by oneself—this is always taught by the wise. O best of Brahmins, whatever desirable things there are, unless they are offered to Viṣṇu, they should not be consumed by Vaiṣṇavas. The greatness of Viṣṇu’s offerings lies in the destruction of all sin. I will tell you another story—listen attentively, O Brahmin.” There was a Brahmin named Sarvajanī, born of a pure lineage, peaceful, self-controlled, compassionate, and devoted to his teachers and fellow Brahmins. He was steadfast in worshipping Hari, intent on remembering Him, relieving the sufferings of those who sought refuge, speaking only the truth, and mastering his senses. He bathed at dawn, observed his daily duties, refrained from violence, practiced the vow of Ekadashi, and honored his relatives. One day, O best of twice-born, Sarvajanī saw Keshava in a dream: dark-hued, with spotless lotus-like eyes, a smiling face, and clad in yellow garments. The Lord appeared radiant, adorned with golden earrings, anklets, and a crown. His chest shone with the Kaustubha gem and was decorated with a garland of forest flowers. Sarvajanī saw Him with four arms, holding conch, discus, mace, and lotus, bearing all auspicious marks and wearing a golden sacred thread. Having attained this vision of the Lord of the world in his dream, the Brahmin, his palms joined and his hair standing on end from joy, praised Him: “Salutations to you, Lord of all worlds, destroyer of sorrow, fear, and disease for all beings, O Narayana, beloved of Lakshmi’s heart, giver of the supreme nectar of righteousness, prosperity, desire, and liberation. All the sins I have committed, O enemy of Mura, were done by me out of intoxication and delusion. Therefore, I fear the deep ocean of worldly existence—lift me up by granting me the boat of your devotion. Though I know, O Hari, that humans, deluded, incur sin on earth, I still commit evil with pleasure; truly, there is no one as foolish as I am. The tree of merit quickly bears the fruit of happiness, but what do I know, O slayer of Naraka? I am a sinner. I have no wealth for the offering of flower-trees; O Lord, be gracious—what can I do? Forsaking your pair of lotus feet, the abode of supreme nectar, my mind, like a bee, ever wanders to the faces of women, which bestow only death, smeared always with mucus, deluded like a bee after a lotus. My hands do not give gifts, my mouth speaks falsehood, my ears are eager to hear evil; O Hari, remove these faults of your servant, for you, O Lord, are the destroyer of the faults of those who seek your refuge. O slayer of Naraka, even if I have obtained the sturdy boat of your devotion in this dreadful ocean of worldly existence, still, alas, I am subject to fate, of wicked mind, and my time is always spent in sorrow. Is there a shining path to cross the ocean of worldly existence, free from suffering, compassionate and gracious? My vision, blinded by the great darkness of delusion, never turns to you, O Vishnu. Even though I am sinful, my mind lost and ruined, the cause of my own destruction, yet, O slayer of Keshi, today I behold you, whose lotus feet are worshipped by all the gods, even in a dream, O Lord.” Vyāsa said: Thus praised by Sarvajanī, the blessed Lord, consort of Lakshmi, knower of speech, and deliverer across the ocean of worldly existence, spoke these words: “O best of Brahmins, I am always pleased by your devotion; therefore, very soon, all good fortune will come to you. Even before, I delivered you from sin, O Brahmin; now you are my devotee—no misfortune will befall you.” The Brahmin asked, “Who was I before, O Vishnu? What sin did I commit? How did you deliver me from sin in the past? In this world, how was I born, and how was I brought forth by you? O Lord, please tell me all this, for you are always compassionate.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Though this is a secret not to be revealed, O best of the twice-born, out of affection for you, I will tell it—listen.