Watching Prahlada skip down the hall, following his new teachers, had brought tears to Hiranyakashipu’s eyes. His boy was growing up so fast. And watching the joy on his child’s face as he learnt of the adventures he would have at the gurukula swelled Hiranyakashipu’s heart. He had no worries in regards to Prahlada’s fitness as a student. His son was clever and bright. Prahlada was beloved by everyone that met him. Why should that change at school? Instead, the king worried about the gurukula’s ability to teach the young prince.
“One day, my son will be king,” the thought filled Hiranyakashipu’s mind. It was a sprawling empire now, vast and varied. He had been so focused on building it, he had not considered how his own child would manage it. The teachers from the gurukula mentioned it themselves. “What else have I overlooked?” Hiranyakashipu thought, reflecting on the road ahead. Prahlada was young, but it was never too early to start learning. The asura king only hoped that his son was being given an education worthy of him and the future before him. “Perhaps it is too early to fret,” he tried to reassure himself. He didn’t want his internal conflict to dampen the joy of this milestone.
Hiranyakashipu spent many days lost in the fond thoughts and memories of his child. Where once his days were dotted with sweet stories of his child from courtiers and guards, now every day was an uninterrupted flood of problems to solve. He found himself staring at the entrance to his grand hall, hoping to see the young prince skipping down the hallway. The garden was silent. He would see beautiful flowers and think to have them sent to Prahlada, only to remember that he was at school now. Everything was much quieter; the palace guards and servants did not scold as much.
The palace was empty without Prahlada. Hiranyakashipu couldn’t stand it anymore. He called for Prahlada from the gurukula.
The teachers were hesitant to bring Prahlada back so soon. All things grow in their own time. But when Hiranyakashipu insisted, they brought the child back. The Lord of All sat in the courtroom. His childhood friend, Holika’s, niece had requested to be present when Prahlada returned. “Certainly. Nothing could please me more!” he had said with a smile, relieved by the knowledge that he was not the only one missing Prahlada.
His child’s popularity also reassured him. “Perhaps he will be a well-liked king,” Hiranyakashipu mused. Reputation is difficult to garner, much less maintain. At least his child had a good start following in his father’s footsteps.
“This is a strange reunion,” he mused as they waited for the prince to arrive, memories of his own childhood flashing before him. The golden pillars that lined the courtroom and the rows of chairs guided the eye to the doorway. Hiranyakashipu and Kamala felt time crawling. The air of the empty courtroom felt heavy. Hiranyakashipu glanced at Kamala; her eyes were fixed on the empty archway. He was struggling himself to not become glued to it. Hiranyakashipu bristled, shifting in his throne. When Prahlada was finally brought in by his teachers, Hiranyakashipu felt his body humming with excitement. His heart soared.
“My son’s only gone to school!” he thought, chastising himself. Hiranyakashipu wanted to run down to his child and scoop him up. But he forced himself to keep his composure.
He watched Prahlada survey the room as he entered. Prahlada waved at Kamala, standing behind Hiranyakashipu’s throne. The king felt giddy with pride as Kamala eagerly waved back to his son. One is blessed to have a child so treasured by so many. Unable to contain himself any longer, the king rose from his throne and threw open his arms. “Come here, son.” Prahlada ran to his father and jumped into his arms.
Setting the prince on his lap in his courtroom, Hiranyakashipu was eager to learn what Prahlada had been taught at the gurukula. Through great effort he had managed to ensure that the prince attended the finest school. Hiranyakashipu asked him, “Son, what’s the best thing you’ve learnt at school so far?”
“Father, the best thing that I have learnt,” Prahlada said to a father considering how well-spoken his child was, “is that living beings seek endlessly. They’re always running after something. First, they run after riches, then love. Some seek peace; some want excitement. And even when there’s nothing to seek, they seek to complete their dharma, bound by the tasks that pile up and never stop. It sounds so tiring.”
Hiranyakashipu hesitated. He surveyed Prahlada’s face as if the answers would reveal themselves. Instead, images of the sprawling empire outside the palace walls formed in Hiranyakashipu’s mind. He watched the asuras go about their daily tasks, arguing with each other over taxes and prices. He saw armies lined up, generals turning to a young man wearing a crown, waiting for his direction.
He cast his gaze across the empty courtroom where they sat. He considered the challenges that faced any king, and saw a court full of advisors unleashing an onslaught of questions. One man asked, “Our treasury is running low, Your Highness. We shall have to find a way to fill it or a famine may be imminent.” Another man’s leg shook with impatience as he shifted in his chair, wondering when his concern would be addressed. How could Prahlada manage all this if he has no motivation?
“Father?” Prahalada asked gently.
Hiranyakashipu snapped out of his reverie and studied his child. “He’s only five-years-old. There is still time,” he thought. Perhaps he was allowing his worries to overwhelm him. “Yes, son, it is tiring,” Hiranyakashipu answered, ruffling Prahlada’s hair. “So what do you have to say about this?”
“Father, the only answer is to seek moksha, or liberation,” Prahlada declared. His voice was calm but his eyes lit up as he spoke. “When one surrenders to the Divine, then they are freed from these constant racing thoughts and unending desires. And this is true freedom.”
Hiranyakashipu blinked. For the first time, he turned to Prahlada’s teachers and demanded an explanation. “What is the meaning of this?” he said. “I said ‘the best of everything.’ Philosophy. Art. Science. Warfare. Strategy. And here my son is babbling about moksha? What use is having all the luxuries of the world if he doesn’t know how to manage them? If he doesn’t even want them?!” The teachers started to apologize, but Hiranyakashipu couldn’t stop himself. He continued, “At this rate, he won’t even know how to enjoy life!” The gurus withered under Hiranyakashipu’s gaze.
“We’ll fix this,” they offered in haste, promising to supervise the prince closely. Already they were reaching for Prahlada, and Hiranyakashipu didn’t mind. He handed the prince back over to the teachers.
Prahlada was shuffled out of the room and back to the gurukula. “What a disappointment,” he complained, slumping into the throne. He heard Kamala shuffle quietly and turned to evaluate her expression. Was he overreacting? Her brows were knit and lips tight. She seemed confused, but when she saw him studying her face, her eyes softened.
“It’ll be even longer now until I get to see him again,” he thought bitterly.
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