The Story of the Pyre
Holika Dahan| Mythological origins of the festival
This story is part of the new series which seeks to retell the mythological origins of certain festivals celebrated in India. While there has been a strong attempt to ensure there is some grounding by citing ancient literature, creative liberty has been taken in the narrative only to dramatize the events and add psychological depths to the characters. This may (or may not) infuse new meaning to the festival itself. The views are of my own expressed without the intention of hurting anyone’s belief. You can also read the retelling of the festival Onam (The Story of Three Paces), Durga Puja (The Story of Mahishāsurmardini). Diwali (The Story of Return) and Mahashivratri (The Story of Halahal)
OVERVIEW
Over the ages, many legends and tales have come to be associated with Holi but there is one, from Bhagvat Puran, that shows how the term Holi (roughly translates to ‘burning or offering’) could have originated the festival.
STORY
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“All hail, Hiranyakashyap. Our King. The one true God.”
“All hail, Hiranyakashyap. Our King. The one true God.”
“All hail, Hiranyakashyap. Our King. The one true God.”
Despite the loud chant around the court by his subjects, King Hiranyakashyap looked sternly at the pyre being built in front of him. On any other day, he would have thrived on his subjects revering him. Not that they did this it out of love or admiration. It was pure fear.
And why shouldn’t they fear him? He thought. He was, after all, indestructible. No man or animal could kill him. No weapon could pierce his body. Neither during the day nor at night. With Brahma’s boon, he was… a god.
But today all that didn’t matter. Because amongst all present, there was one person who had his full attention. Hiranyakashyap’s angry eyes were fixed on a little boy standing in front of him. It was his son Prahlad, who had questioned his divinity — who had refused to worship him.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been given any warning before. But Prahlad’s words kept ringing in his head. “Vishnu is the only true God, father. You are just a King.” Just remembering that, got Hiranyakashyap’s blood boiling. The rage building up in him evaporated any fatherly love that had remained.
Good thing, he was going to see his son be burnt to death today.
It was, in fact, his sister’s idea. “Why do you fret, brother?” He recounted what Holika said. “I know you have tried to get him killed a few times only to see him survive. But he always says he has help from ‘his God’. Let me step into pyre with Prahlad. With my boon, fire cannot harm me. I can ensure that nothing comes in between that arrogant child and his doomed fate.” Hiranyakashyap smiled. He knew this could work.
The logs for the pyre were set up in the middle of the court so that he could get a good view of the event while being seated in his throne. Holika, who was standing behind Prahlad, violently pulled him towards the pyre. She positioned herself in the middle of it, gesturing him to sit on her lap. Prahlad did not seem to resist. Like all the times before, he did not show any sign of fear. He only closed his eyes and began muttering something to himself. This got Hiranyakashyap even more enraged, who signaled his men to light up the pyre quickly. Within seconds, flames rose around Holika and Prahlad, making only their silhouettes visible to everyone else.
As soon as he heard a shriek, Hiranyakashyap was just about to let out a triumphant sigh only to notice that something had gone wrong. It was Holika who seemed to be howling in pain. Looking closer, he saw his sister wasn’t sitting still but withering away. As her scream died out, a calm voice reverberated the halls through the flames. Prahlad kept chanting, completely unscathed by the fire around him.
This couldn’t be! Hiranyakashyap thought. The boy somehow had lived while his sister — despite her boon — was no more. What was the meaning of this? Was this Vishnu’s doing? Could Prahlad be right about his divinity? No! That’s not possible.
But as much as he tried to deny it, this doubt only got further cemented in his psyche. Especially, when he realized looking around that instead of seeing the fear in his subject’s eyes, there was an admiration for Prahlad, having witnessed this miraculous event. The silence around the court was soon replaced by many whispers, but one of them managed to reach Hiranyakashap’s ears clearly:
“Holika ki Holi sadiyon ke liye yaad rakhi jayegi.” (The burning of Holika will be remembered for ages)
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