People applaud sin and mock the saints. Such is the strength of unrighteousness; the whole populace has been deceived. Dharma has been uprooted; the final dissolution has begun. The wonder of this age is great: brahmins, whose highest duty is the Vedas, have abandoned their calling and worship foreign idols. Such is the ruin of truth. Righteousness has drowned. Never before has such a state been seen; a terrible spirit has descended. Patience, forgiveness, compassion, devotion, faith, and right conduct find no haven. Courage and fortitude have been shattered. Caste duties have collapsed; all castes perform one another's rituals at random. To utter the name of Rama is considered a great burden. People rush after omens and spirits in a frenzy. At the mention of scriptural discourse, faces twist in irritation. For the sake of sensual greed, they stake their lives; yet from one who walks the spiritual path, they will not part with a fistful of flour. The wealthy and nameless are honored as indispensable, while Vedic scholars and the virtuous are insulted. Sons treat their own fathers as servants. Daughters-in-law have turned their mothers-in-law into their maids. Truth has been lost and all boundaries destroyed. Husbands treat their wives like paupers. People are ashamed to bow to a devotee of Hari, yet for the belly's sake they fawn upon the foreigner. Sin has swelled beyond all measure. None call the lowest 'impure,' for everyone has lost all sense of purity. On Ekadashi they eat grains; brahmins, after accepting betel-leaf offerings, utter obscene words. Virtuous women of good families are dishonored, while the faces of servants are kissed. Adulteresses are pampered while faithful wives live in penury. See how mighty sin has become, O Lord. The saints have been driven away and their merit dragged off to the wastelands. The rains have grown fearful and scanty, the earth trembles in dread. The gods have retreated behind closed doors; violence has spread everywhere. Crops yield less grain day by day, cows and buffaloes give thin milk, cities look ruined, and heresies have flourished in abundance. Sacred fires, offerings, Vedic rituals, and daily observances have all disappeared. All eighteen communities have taken up one another's trades; brahmins engage in thievery, abandoning their pure white garments for dark clothing. The Gita is forgotten, the Gayatri is suppressed, and mantras are loaded with trickery. Vedic scholars sell unmarried girls as though they were horses. Those who study the Vedic texts are mocked and ridiculed. Delight in scholarship has been overtaken by corruption. The wicked parade with great cunning, deceit, and charm. Cleverness, skill, and logical debate are all deployed for calumny and backbiting. Not a single soul has been spared the ruin of scriptural discipline. Those who took up sannyasa, austerity, celibacy, or renunciation are now consumed by lust and anger and cannot free themselves from desire. In this time of destruction, kings have become the destroyers of their people. Fathers, sons, and brothers slaughter one another. How vast is the power of this seductress Maya: she has bewitched all people, all castes, all four orders, trampling and defiling them. What the saints prophesied of old has come true to the letter; what we once only heard, we now see with our own eyes. But let all this be as it may. There is no shelter to be found within the age of Kali. One must cry out to God with compassion and remember Him urgently in the chitta. O Lord of Vaikuntha, what are You watching for? The people are tormented by Kali. Come running. Tuka's servant calls out to You.

People applaud sin and mock the saints. Such is the strength of unrighteousness; the whole world has been deceived. Dharma is uprooted; the time of dissolution has begun. This is the wonder of the age: brahmins, whose highest work is the Veda, abandon it and worship foreign idols. Truth has come to ruin; the higher good has drowned. Such a thing was never seen before; a terrible spirit has come. Peace, forgiveness, mercy, faith, devotion, right action find no place to stay; courage and steadiness are shattered. Caste duties have collapsed; everyone does everyone else's rites at random. To say Rama is felt as a heavy burden. People run after omens and spirits like creatures after bait. At the mention of holy story or Purana, their heads throb with irritation. For sensual greed they will stake their lives, yet from one on the spiritual path they will not part with a fistful of flour. The rich and the nameless are treated as indispensable; Vedic scholars and the good are insulted. Sons take service from their fathers as from servants. Daughters-in-law have made maids of their mothers-in-law. Falsehood has come in and all limits are gone; husbands treat their wives like beggars. People are ashamed to bow to a servant of Hari, yet for the belly they fawn on the stranger. Sin has swelled past all measure; no one calls the lowest impure, for no one holds to purity at all. See how ruined the present is: on Ekadashi they eat grains, and brahmins, after taking betel offerings, speak foul words. Women of good families are dishonored while the faces of servant-girls are kissed; people parade purity for show. The unfaithful are pampered, the faithful wife lives in want. See how mighty sin has grown, O Lord. The saints are driven off and their merit dragged to the wastelands. The rains have turned fearful and thin; the earth trembles in dread. The gods have retreated behind shut doors; violence spreads on every side. Crops yield less grain by the day, cows and buffaloes give thin milk, cities look ruined, and heresies grow thick. Sacred fires, offerings, sacrifices, and daily rites have vanished. All eighteen communities take up one another's trades; brahmins turn thief and trade their white robes for dark cloth. The Gita is forgotten, the Gayatri suppressed, mantras filled with trickery; reciters of the Veda sell their daughters like horses. Those who study the scriptures are mocked, and delight in learning is overrun by corruption. The wicked parade with great cunning and charm; skill and clever argument are all spent on slander. Not one soul is spared this ruin of discipline. Those who took up renunciation, austerity, celibacy are now swallowed by lust and anger and cannot free themselves from desire. See the strange play of this age of ruin: kings have become the death of their own people, and fathers, sons, and brothers cut one another down. See the power of this seductress: she has bewitched all people, all four orders, fouling and trampling them. What the saints foretold long ago has come true to the letter; what we only heard, we now see with our own eyes. But let all this be. There is no refuge to be found within the age of Kali. One must cry out to God for mercy and remember him at once in the heart. O Lord of Vaikuntha, what are you watching for? The people are tormented by Kali. Come running. Tuka's servant calls out to you.