“If only you had listened to us today! We would have won,” complained Ananya.

“Yeah right! With all you weaklings in the team, it was a lost battle,” said Sid.

“It’s useless talking to you, Sid. You are so full of yourself,” said Ananya with disgust.

Tatha leaned back in his armchair, his eyes twinkling as he watched Ananya and Sid bicker. “What’s all this commotion, my little warriors?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

“Nothing, Tatha,” said Sid with a shrug. “It’s just Ananya being her usual dramatic self.”

“Excuse me!” Ananya shot back. “Let me tell you, Tatha. We were playing tug of war with the kids outside and when it came to planning, Sid decided to call us all weaklings and said he could win the game all by himself. No teamwork, no strategy—just his ego taking charge. And, of course, we lost.”

Tatha raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. “Ah, Sid, my boy, it seems your pride has gotten the better of you. Didn’t we just talk about Jaya and Vijaya and how their arrogance led to their downfall?”

Sid shifted uneasily in his seat. “I guess. But, Tatha, you didn’t tell us what happened after they were cursed,” he asked , trying to change the topic.

“Ah,” said Tatha, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It seems I owe you the rest of the tale. Come, sit down, and let’s dive into the story of Jaya’s first life as Hiranyakashipu.”

The kids scrambled to sit closer, all thoughts of their argument forgotten as Tatha began.

“Hiranyakashipu,” Tatha began, “was born to sage Kashyapa.

He was a brilliant man, but his ambition often got the better of him. He decided to perform intense penance to impress Lord Brahma. After years of effort, Lord Brahma appeared and asked him to choose a boon.

“Oh Brahma,” Hiranyakashipu said, his eyes gleaming with arrogance, “grant me immortality!”

But Brahma shook his head. ‘That, my child, is beyond even me.’

Undeterred, Hiranyakashipu crafted a loophole. ‘Then grant me this: I cannot be killed by man or beast, god or demon, not in the day or night, not indoors or outdoors, not on earth or in the sky, and not by any weapon.’

Brahma, bound by his word, agreed. And with this, Hiranyakashipu became invincible—or so he thought.”

The children leaned forward, hanging on every word.

Now, with his newfound power, Hiranyakashipu’s ego grew to monstrous proportions. He declared himself a god and forced everyone in his kingdom to worship him.

But there was one exception—his own son, Prahlad.”

“Why?” Ananya asked, her eyes wide.

“Well, my dear, when Prahlad was still in his mother’s womb, he heard tales of Lord Vishnu from the great sage Narada. He grew up as a devoted follower of Vishnu, chanting ‘Narayana, Narayana’ even under his father’s furious gaze. Imagine that—a little boy standing up to a tyrant!”

Sid frowned. “That must’ve made Hiranyakashipu mad.”

“Mad? He was livid!” Tatha exclaimed, shaking his head.

“He tried everything to get rid of Prahlad. He had him trampled by an elephant, thrown off a cliff, and even poisoned. But each time, Prahlad came out unharmed, protected by his unwavering faith in Vishnu.

And then came Holika!

Hiranyakashipu’s sister had a cloak that made her immune to fire. He ordered her to sit in a blazing bonfire with Prahlad in her lap. But what happened?”

“The cloak flew off!” shouted Ananya.

“Exactly!” said Tatha, clapping his hands.

“The cloak flew and covered Prahlad instead! Holika was burnt to ashes. Faith and purity triumphed once again. Finally, Hiranyakashipu’s rage boiled over. He demanded, ‘If your God is everywhere, is he in this pillar?’

‘Yes, Father,’ Prahlad replied calmly.

Hiranyakashipu struck the pillar with all his might, and out came Narasimha—the half-man, half-lion incarnation of Vishnu.

Neither man nor beast, indoors nor outdoors, day nor night!

Narasimha dragged Hiranyakashipu to the threshold, placed him on his lap, and tore him apart with his claws.”

The kids gasped, their eyes wide.

“And with that,” Tatha said softly, “Hiranyakashipu’s tyranny ended. Prahlad became king, ruling with wisdom and compassion, just as Narasimha had advised.”

—

Tatha leaned back, his voice turning gentle. “Now, tell me, what do we learn from Hiranyakashipu’s story?”

Ananya smirked, throwing a sidelong glance at Sid. “Pride and arrogance lead to downfall.”

“Indeed,” Tatha said, nodding. “But also, remember Prahlad. His faith and pure heart gave him strength. A pure heart sees goodness, even in the toughest times. Be humble, my dears, and keep your heart pure.”

Sid sighed and muttered, “Alright, I get it. No more ‘I can do it all by myself.’ Happy now, Ananya?”

Ananya giggled. “Very.”

And with that, Tatha smiled, knowing his lesson had been well received.