Prahlada and the Pillar

Hiranyakashipu had won a boon that made him almost impossible to kill: not by man or beast, not by day or night, not indoors or outdoors, not on the ground or in the sky, not by any weapon. Certain that nothing could touch him, he ordered every person in his kingdom to worship him alone.

Everyone obeyed — except his own son. Little Prahlada kept chanting Narayana, the name of Vishnu, exactly as before.

His father tried everything to frighten the name out of him, and each time Prahlada came through unharmed, still chanting. His aunt Holika, who could not be burned by fire, sat with the boy in a blaze — and it was Prahlada who walked out of it. That night is remembered to this day as Holika Dahan, the bonfire on the eve of Holi.

At last the furious king pointed at a pillar in his hall. "You say your god is everywhere. Is he in this pillar?"

"Yes," said Prahlada.

The king struck the pillar — and it split open. Out came Narasimha, a form that was neither wholly man nor wholly beast. He carried the king to the doorway — neither inside nor outside — at dusk, which is neither day nor night, laid him across his lap, so neither ground nor sky, and used no weapon but his claws.

Every loophole the king had bought for himself closed at once. And the first thing Narasimha did afterwards was to grow gentle and bless the little boy who had never stopped chanting.

Moral: Power built on fear always has a crack in it. Prahlada never fought his father — he simply refused to stop being true to what he believed.