Surrounded by a herd of fierce elephants, Prahlada stood firm as the great beasts charged at him, striking with their massive tusks. Yet, by a wondrous power, the elephants’ tusks shattered at their roots and fell to the ground. Stripped of their weapons and gripped by terror, the elephants turned and fled. Witnessing the flight of these mighty creatures, the powerful demon king Hiranyakashipu was seized by wrath. In his fury, the king ignited a blazing fire and, without mercy, cast his own son Prahlada into the flames. But Prahlada, beloved of the Lord who rests on the cosmic waters, was protected by Agni himself; the fire would not burn him. Instead, the flames became cool and gentle, leaving the steadfast boy unharmed. Seeing his son emerge unscathed from the fire, the king was filled with astonishment. Undeterred, Hiranyakashipu next sought to destroy Prahlada with dreadful poison, potent enough to end all living beings. Yet, by the power of Vishnu, the deadly poison was transformed into sweet nectar as soon as it touched Prahlada’s lips. Thus, every lethal attempt against the divine child—by fire, by beasts, by poison—was rendered harmless, and Prahlada remained untouched. Realizing that his many cruel devices could not harm his son, the king was overwhelmed with wonder and, his anger momentarily subdued, spoke to Prahlada in a gentler tone. “You have spoken truly of Vishnu’s supremacy,” Hiranyakashipu said, “for he is called Vishnu because he pervades all beings. That all-pervading god is indeed the Supreme Lord. If this is so, show me his all-pervasiveness directly. His lordly powers, his energies, brilliance, knowledge, strength, and might—these are his supreme and divine glories. Yet, having truly seen Vishnu, I know that among the gods, none in the world can match my power. By the boon I received from Īśāna, I am invulnerable and unconquerable among all creatures. Vishnu could only become Lord by defeating me in strength and valor.” Hearing these words, Prahlada, steadfast in his vows and filled with amazement, began to speak of Hari’s glory and the humility of the lowly. “That illustrious Nārāyaṇa, the supreme soul, eternal, who dwells in all beings, is called Vāsudeva,” Prahlada declared. “He is the sustainer of the entire universe, and there is nothing in existence, moving or unmoving, apart from him. All forms, sentient and insentient, are but his manifestations. He pervades the supreme sky in threefold ways, and his wondrous single-footed pervasion is a marvel. He who holds the discus and mace, who wears yellow garments—Janārdana—is seen by yogis through devotion, but never by those without devotion. Janārdana cannot be seen by those filled with anger or envy. Yet, pervading all—gods, animals, humans, even immobile things—he abides in every being, from the smallest to the greatest.” These words only kindled more anger in Hiranyakashipu, the foremost of the Daityas. His eyes reddened with rage as he rebuked his son again and again. “If this Vishnu is truly all-pervading and the supreme person,” he thundered, “then show him to me here and now! What use are all these words?” Without waiting for a reply, Hiranyakashipu struck a great pillar in the palace with his hand and challenged Prahlada: “If Vishnu is everywhere, show him to me in this pillar! If you cannot, you are a liar, and I shall kill you for your falsehoods.” So saying, the Daitya king drew his sword and, in a fit of fury, hurled it at Prahlada’s chest, intent on slaying his own son. In that very moment, a tremendous sound burst forth from the pillar, a roar so fierce it seemed to split the sky asunder like the thunderbolts of doom. The ears of the Daityas were shattered by that deafening sound, and all fell to the ground as if they were trees uprooted by a storm. Terrified, the Daityas scattered, believing the three worlds themselves were being destroyed. From that pillar emerged the great and radiant Lord Hari, making a terrible sound like the end of the world. By his mighty roar, the stars themselves fell from the heavens to earth. There, before all present, Hari appeared in the wondrous form of Narasimha, the Man-Lion, blazing with the radiance of countless millions of suns and fires. His face was like that of five lions, his body human in shape. His mouth was fierce, adorned with protruding fangs, and his tongue flickered upward, reaching for the sky. His hair blazed with fire, his eyes shone like molten gold, and from his thousand long arms, every weapon imaginable was ready for battle. He stood, surrounded like Mount Meru by many branching trees, adorned with celestial garlands and garments, sparkling with divine ornaments. There stood Narasimha, the lion-man, manifest to destroy the demons. Seeing this terrifying and mighty form, Hiranyakashipu, the king of the Daityas, was overcome. His eyelashes were singed by the heat, his limbs trembled, and he fell to the ground in terror. Prahlada, beholding his beloved Hari in the form of Narasimha, cried out in victory and bowed low before Janardana, the Lord of the gods. As Prahlada gazed upon the great-souled Narasimha, he beheld wondrous visions upon the Lord’s body: at the tip of his mane were seen worlds, oceans, continents, gods, gandharvas, humans, and a thousand cosmic eggs. In his eyes shone the sun, the moon, and other celestial bodies; in his ears resided the twin Ashvins, as well as all directions and intermediate spaces. On his forehead were Brahma and Rudra, in his nostrils the sky and the wind; in his mouth sat Indra and Agni, and on his tongue the goddess Sarasvati. In his fangs were lions, tigers, sharabhas, and mighty serpents; on his throat was Mount Meru, and on his shoulders great mountains. In his arms were gods, animals, and humans; in his navel, the atmosphere; at his feet, the earth itself. All herbs grew from the hair on his body, trees sprouted from his nails, and in his breath resided the Vedas, complete with all their limbs and divisions. Thus, the Supreme Lord manifested his all-pervading form, revealing to all the infinite glory and mystery of the divine.