"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say."
~Anaïs Nin
LEKHNI-JULY-2009
ISSUE-29'th, Year 3
In this issue: Favourites Forever: Mirsolab Holub (czeck) & William Shakespeare. . Poetry Here & Now: Deepti Garg. Story:Guy de Maupassant . Kids Corner: Second story of Dasavtar and a lovely poem on the Frog .
In art or literature a true artist will always try to build up a resistance so that democracy could be preserved and democratic values saved, whatever may be its circumstances! In todays war-torn volcanic world finding that trust is not so easy, when people are manipulated according the whims of each and any politician...in the country or abroad.
During the late seventies in India when the people were robbed of their democratic rights and the right of expression, which is so dear to all of us, even that was also taken away from them. To fight against all decadent and irrational cultural streams and ideas propagated by imperialism for subversion of democratic and scientific temper of the people of developing countries; is not that easy. They are often mislead or brutally squashed. Their stories are strewn all around us, be it Iraq , Iran. Afganistan or Kashmir. Still worthy pen will keep on fighting against all decadent feudal ideologies and customs that perpetrate tyranny against women and downtrodden and uphold inequalities on the basis of castes, faiths, gender and races and Lekhni will keep on presenting these precious and wise or beautiful creations to you
What to select or not ; as always in every sphere of life, is a difficult task because it boils down to choices...choices we make...choices we should stick with....Assembling of your dear Lekhni is no exception. Once again Lekhni has assembled a beautiful bouquet of prose and verse....Hope you will like it and enjoy reading it! If you like or dislike something bit too intensely , don't forget to drop us a line.
How strange are those old recollections which haunt us without our being able to get rid of them! This one is so very old that I cannot understand how it has clung so vividly and tenaciously to my memory. Since then I have seen so many sinister things, either affecting or terrible, that I am astonished at not being able to pass a single day without the face of Mother Bellflower recurring to my mind's eye, just as I knew her formerly long, long ago, when I was ten or twelve years old.
She was an old seamstress who came to my parents' house once a week, every Thursday, to mend the linen. My parents lived in one of those country houses called chateaux, which are merely old houses with pointed roofs, to which are attached three or four adjacent farms.
The village, a large village, almost a small market town, was a few hundred yards off and nestled round the church, a red brick church, which had become black with age.
Well, every Thursday Mother Bellflower came between half-past six and seven in the morning and went immediately into the linen room and began to work. She was a tall, thin, bearded or rather hairy woman, for she had a beard all over her face, a surprising, an unexpected beard, growing in improbable tufts, in curly bunches which looked as if they had been sown by a madman over that great face, the face of a gendarme in petticoats. She had them on her nose, under her nose, round her nose, on her chin, on her cheeks, and her eyebrows, which were extraordinarily thick and long and quite gray, bushy and bristling, looked exactly like a pair of mustaches stuck on there by mistake.
She limped, not like lame people generally do, but like a ship pitching. When she planted her great bony, vibrant body on her sound leg, she seemed to be preparing to mount some enormous wave, and then suddenly she dipped as if to disappear in an abyss and buried herself in the ground. Her walk reminded one of a ship in a storm, and her head, which was always covered with an enormous white cap, whose ribbons fluttered down her back, seemed to traverse the horizon from north to south and from south to north at each limp.
I adored Mother Bellflower. As soon as I was up I used to go into the linen room, where I found her installed at work with a foot warmer under her feet. As soon as I arrived she made me take the foot warmer and sit upon it, so that I might not catch cold in that large chilly room under the roof.
"That draws the blood from your head," she would say to me.
She told me stories while mending the linen with her long, crooked, nimble fingers; behind her magnifying spectacles, for age had impaired her sight, her eyes appeared enormous to me, strangely profound, double.
As far as I can remember from the things which she told me and by which my childish heart was moved, she had the large heart of a poor woman. She told me what had happened in the village, how a cow had escaped from the cow house and had been found the next morning in front of Prosper Malet's mill looking at the sails turning, or about a hen's egg which had been found in the church belfry without anyone being able to understand what creature had been there to lay it, or the queer story of Jean Pila's dog who had gone ten league to bring back his master's breeches which a tramp had stolen while they were hanging up to dry out of doors after he had been caught in the rain. She told me these simple adventures in such a manner that in my mind they assumed the proportions of never-to-be-forgotten dramas, of grand and mysterious poems; and the ingenious stories invented by the poets, which my mother told me in the evening, had none of the flavor, none of the fullness or of the vigor of the peasant woman's narratives.
Well, one Thursday when I had spent all the morning in listening to Mother Clochette, I wanted to go upstairs to her again during the day after picking hazelnuts with the mansevant in the wood behind the farm. I remember it all as clearly as what happened only yesterday.
On opening the door of the linen room I saw the old seamstress lying on the floor by the side of her chair, her face turned down and her arms stretched out, but still holding her needle in one hand and one of my shirts in the other. One of her legs in a blue stocking, the longer one no doubt, was extended under her chair, and her spectacles glistened by the wall, where they had rolled away from her.
I ran away uttering shrill cries. They all came running, and in a few minutes I was told that Mother Clochette was dead.
I cannot describe the profound, poignant, terrible emotion which stirred my childish heart. I went slowly down into the drawing room and hid myself in a dark corner in the depths of a great old armchair, where I knelt and wept. I remained there for a long time, no doubt, for night came on. Suddenly someone came in with a lamp--without seeing me, however--and heard my father and mother talking with the medical man, whose voice recognized.
He had been sent for immediately, and he was explaining the cause of the accident, of which I understood nothing, however. Then he sat down and had a glass of liqueur and a biscuit.
He went on talking, and what he then said will remain engraved on my mind until I die. I think that I can give the exact words which he used.
Ah!" he said. "The poor woman! she broke her leg the day of my arrival here. I had not even had time to wash my hands after getting off the diligence before I was sent for in all haste, for it was a bad case, very bad.
"She was seventeen and a pretty girl, very pretty! Would anyone believe it? I have never told her story before; in fact, no one but myself and one other person, who is no longer living in this part of the country, ever knew it. Now that she is dead I may be less discreet.
A young assistant teacher had just come to live in the village; he was good looking and had the bearing of a soldier. All the girls ran after him, but he was disdainful. Besides that, he was very much afraid of his superior, the schoolmaster, old Grabu, who occasionally got out of bed the wrong foot first.
"Old Grabu already employed pretty Hortense, who has just died here and who was afterward nicknamed Clochette. The assistant master singled out the pretty young girl who was no doubt flattered at being chosen by this disdainful conqueror; at any rate, she fell in love with him, and he succeeded in persuading her to give him a first meeting in the hayloft behind the school at night after she had done her day's sewing.
"She pretended to go home, but instead of going downstairs when she left the Grabus', she went upstairs and hid among the hay to wait for her lover. He soon joined her, and he was beginning to say pretty things to her, when the door of the hayloft opened and the schoolmaster appeared and asked: 'What are you doing up there, Sigisbert?' Feeling sure that he would be caught, the young schoolmaster lost his presence of mind and replied stupidly: 'I came up here to rest a little among the bundles of hay, Monsieur Grabu.'
"The loft was very large and absolutely dark. Sigisbert pushed the frightened girl to the farther end and said: 'Go, there and hide yourself. I shall lose my situation, so get away and hide yourself.'
When the schoolmaster heard the whispering he continued: 'Why, you are not by yourself.'
"'Yes, I am, Monsieur Grabu!'
"'But you are not, for you are talking.'
"'I swear I am, Monsieur Grabu.'
"'I will soon find out,' the old man replied and, double-locking the door, he went down to get a light.
"Then the young man, who was a coward such as one sometimes meets, lost his head, and he repeated, having grown furious all of a sudden: 'Hide yourself, so that he may not find you. You will deprive me of my bread for my whole life; you will ruin my whole career! Do hide yourself!'
"They could hear the key turning in the lock again, and Hortense ran to the window which looked out onto the street, opened it quickly and then in a low and determined voice said: 'You will come and pick me up when he is gone,' and she jumped out.
"Old Grabu found nobody and went down again in great surprise! A quarter of an hour later Monsieur Sigisbert came to me and related his adventure. The girl had remained at the foot of the wall, unable to get up, as she had fallen from the second story, and I went with him to fetch her. It was raining in torrents, and I brought the unfortunate girl home with me, for the right leg was broken in three places, and the bones had come out through the flesh. She did not complain and merely said with admirable resignation: 'I am punished, well punished!'
"I sent for assistance and for the workgirl's friends and told them a made-up story of a runaway carriage which had knocked her down and lamed her outside my door. They believed me, and the gendarmes for a whole month tried in vain to find the author of this accident.
"That is all! Now I say that this woman was a heroine and had the fiber of those who accomplish the grandest deeds in history.
"That was her only love affair, and she died a virgin. She was a martyr, a noble soul, a sublimely devoted woman! And if I did not absolutely admire her I should not have told you this story, which I would never tell anyone during her life; you understand why."
The doctor ceased; Mamma cried, and Papa said some words which I did not catch; then they left the room, and I remained on my knees in the armchair and sobbed, while I heard a strange noise of heavy footsteps and something knocking against the side of the staircase.
Continuing the stories of Dasavtar, this is the second story of lord Vishnu's incarnation as a tortoise.
Kurma Avtar
In the ongoing saga of battle between gods (Devtas) and demons ( asuras) , on one occassion the gods lost all their strength due to a curse by the short-tempered Durvasa rishi The sage once presented a garland of flowers to Indra, king of gods, who carelessly gave it away to his elephant named Eravat, who trampled on it. The Devtas approached Vishnu for help. Vishnu asked them to churn the ocean kscheer Sagar which was white as milk. "Mandar Mountain had to be used as the churning stick.", He said. He also asked them to request asuras to help them in lifting the mountain in exchange for the share of goods , like nector of immortality that would ensue from the churning. Both the devtas and asuras churned the ocean using the serpant Vasuki as the rope. Playing a machiavellian trick, Indra, King of the Gods asked the asuras to hold the head end of Vasuki, which asura took , only to be deceived as the poison from Vasuki was slowly weakening asuras. As churning was prceeding, the mountain started to sink, then Lord Vishnu took the form of a kurma (tortoise) and took the mountain on his back, thus keeping it afloat. As soon as the Amrit Kalash ( bowl full of the nctor of immortality) was out, the asuras grabbed it. Then vishnu took the form of Mohini ( a beautiful maiden) and seduced the asuras into letting her distribute the nector and also to abide by her order of distribution. As the devtas were served the apsara disappeared immediately; thus totally deceiving the asuras and making them weak .
This is how he helped the good win over the evil.
***
The Frog
What a wonderful bird the frog are...
When he sit, he stands almost;
When he hop, he fly almost.
He ain't got no sense hardly;
He ain't got no tail either.
When he sit, he sit on what he ain't got---almost.
श्री वेद प्रताप वैदिक शान्ति प्रणेता श्री श्री दलाई लामा जी के साथ।
***
शोक समाचार
गत महीने हमने हिन्दी साहित्याकाश के तीन चमकते सितारों को एकसाथ ही कार दुर्घटना में खो दिया।
ओमप्रकाश आदित्य.
नीरज पुरी.
लाड़सिंह गूजर.
लेखनी परिवार की ओर से दिवगंत आत्माओं को भावभीनी श्रद्धांजली।
***
साहित्य समाचार
हिंदी व अन्य भारतीय भाषाओं में बाल साहित्य संगोष्ठी संपन्न
विगत दिनों उत्तरप्रदेश भाषा संस्थान, लखनऊ और भारतीय साहित्य सांस्कृतिक संबंध परिषद, नई दिल्ली के संयुक्त तत्वाधान में राष्ट्रीय बाल साहित्य संगोष्ठी का आयोजन भारतीय सांस्कृतिक संबंध परिषद ,नई दिल्ली स्थिति आजाद भवन के मल्टीपर्पज हॉल में संपन्न हुआ.एक पूर्ण दिवसीय संगोष्ठी का उद्घाटन डॉ. कन्हैया लाल नंदन ने किया. इस अवसर पर मुख्य अतिथि श्री वीरेंद्र गुप्त जी थे किंतु किंही कारणवश वे उपलब्ध न थे इसलिए उनका प्रतिनिधित्व डॉ.अजय गुप्ता जी ने किया.इस सत्र की अध्यक्षता डॉ. राजेंद्र अवस्थी जी ने की.
बाल साहित्य की वर्तमान दशा और दिशा पर चिंतनपरक आलेख पढ़ने वाले विद्वानों में डॉ. हरिकृष्ण देवसरे,डॉ. राजेंद्र अवस्थी,डॉ. अलका पाठक,डॉ. शेरजंग गर्ग,डॉ. द्रोणवीर कोहली,डॉ. सूर्यकुमार पाण्डेय आदि प्रमुख थे.
बालसाहित्य से संबंधित पढ़े गए आलेखों में डॉ. अलका पाठक का लेख काफी संतुलित रहा. उन्होंने हास्य-हास्य में वह सब कुछ कह दिया जिसे चिंतनपरक संगोष्ठी में विचार किया जाता है. वे अपने आलेख का अंत करते हुए कहती हैं----“ वही पीछे छूटा बचपन जब पच्चीसबरस, पचास बरस बाद अपने बच्चे या बच्चे के बच्चे के रूप में खडा हो जाता है तो यह जरूरी एवरेस्ट यह आवश्यक सागर सिकुड़ते हैं और छोटे होते जाते हैं,इतने –इतने छोटे कि नन्हीं- नन्हीं हथेलियों में राजा जी की गैया खो जाती है, मिलती है गुदगुदी में, खिलखिलाहट में—आटे बाटे चने चटाके,चैंऊ-मैऊ, झू झू के पाऊं कर के और वही सवाल कि चल चल चमेली बाग में क्या- क्या खिलाएंगे; सूरज एक पूरा चक्कर लगाकर सुबह- दोपहर शाम को रूप बदलने के बाद फिर वहीं से शुरू हो गई कहानी…. कुछ बदला तो था पर बदला हुआ गया कहां ! वही बच्चा, वही कहानी, वही नानी और एक था राजा , एक थी रानी. दोनों मर गए खत्म कहानी.”
इस संगोष्टी में बालसाहित्य संबंधी उठाए गए मुद्दे बच्चों के भविष्य की ओर इंगत करते थे.एक तरफ जहां सूचना एवं प्रौद्योगिकि की क्रांति से उपजी सूचनापरकता माध्यमों के साहित्य में प्रयोग की बात थी वहीं भारत के उन नौनिहालों कि चिंता थी जिन्हें स्कूल का मुंह भी देखने को नसीब नहीं होता ऐसे में बालसाहित्य की दशा और दिशा निर्धारित करना बेमानी लगता है. चूकि इस दिशा में समग्र रूप से कोई समेकित कार्य नहीं हुआ है इसलिए हर कोई अपनी ढ्पली अपना राग गाए चला जा रहा है. फिर भी अंधेरी रात में जुगनू की चमक ही भरपूर लगती है. लेकिन फिर भी अगर-मगर करते हुए चला जाय तो मंजिल मिलेगी ही मिलेगी.
शमशेर अहमद खान, 2-सी, प्रैस ब्लाक, पुराना सचिवालय, सिविल लाइंस दिल्ली---110054.
धीरेन्द्र अस्थाना के उपन्यास ' देश निकाला ' का लोकार्पण
चित्र में -विश्वनाथ सचदेव, जगदम्बा प्रसाद दीक्षित, रामनारायण सराफ, डॉ.रामजी तिवारी , देवी प्रसाद त्रिपाठी , सागर सरहदी, अशोक सिंह और धीरेन्द्र अस्थाना
धीरेन्द्र अस्थाना का उपन्यास 'देश निकाला' मुम्बई के फ़िल्मी जीवन का आईना है । इसमें वर्तमान यथार्थ से आगे जाकर एक नए यथार्थ को स्थापित करने की सराहनीय कोशिश की गई है । ये विचार जाने माने कथाकार जगदम्बा प्रसाद दीक्षित ने शनिवार 13 जून को लोकमंगल द्वारा मुम्बई के दुर्गादेवी सराफ सभागृह में आयोजित लोकार्पण समारोह में व्यक्त किए । उन्होंने आगे कहा कि फ़िल्म जगत में माँ बनने के बाद अभिनेत्री का कैरियर ख़त्म हो जाता है । मगर इस उपन्यास की नायिका मल्लिका को माँ बनने के बाद भी प्रमुख भूमिकाओं के प्रस्ताव मिलते हैं, यह स्वागत योग्य बात है । पहली बार शायद ऐसा हुआ कि दीक्षित जी वामपंथी चिंतन और साम्राज्यवादी चिंता से मुक्त होकर मुक्तभाव से बोले । अभिनेत्री मीनाकुमारी पर मर्मस्पर्शी संस्मरण सुनाकर उन्होंने फ़िल्म जगत के अंधेरे पक्ष को रेखांकित किया । दीक्षित जी ने बताया कि स्टार अभिनेत्री होने के बावजूद मीनाकुमारी सामान्य स्त्री की तरह व्यवहार करती थीं । इलाहाबाद के कवि यश मालवीय के आलेख को आकाशवाणी के उदघोषक आनंद सिंह ने और दिल्ली के कवि सुशील सिद्धार्थ के आलेख को लेखक अनिल सहगल ने प्रस्तुत किया । कवि राजेश श्रीवास्तव और कवि हृदयेश मयंक ने 'देश निकाला' पर अपने आलेख ख़ुद पढ़े । दिल्ली से पधारे 'थिंक इंडिया ' के सम्पादक देवी प्रसाद त्रिपाठी ने बहुत आत्मीयता से अपनी बात रखते हुए कहा कि यह उपन्यास मुम्बई के जीवन का जीवंत दस्तावेज़ है । उन्होंने डॉ. राही मासूम रज़ा के हवाले से कहा कि कलकत्ता कजरारी आँखों से गिरे आँसुओं की राख है । पता नहीं क्यों मुम्बई आने वाले परदेसियों के लिए ऐसे विरह गीत नहीं लिखे गए । कवि देवमणि पांडेय ने अपना विमर्श प्रस्तुत करते हुए कहा कि 'देश निकाला' के चरित्र, घटनाएं और संवाद इसे एक श्रेष्ठ कृति साबित करते हैं । इसे दो विपरीत ध्रुवों कि कथा बताते हुए उन्होंने नायक गौतम के चरित्र को निदा फ़ाज़ली के एक शेर से साकार किया-यहाँ किसी को कोई रास्ता नहीं देता
मुझे गिराके अगर तुम सँभल सको तो चलो
नायिका मल्लिका के संघर्ष को रेखांकित करने के लिए उन्होंने ज़फ़र गोरखपुरी का शेर उद्धरित किया-
ये ऐसी मौत है जिसका कहीं चर्चा नहीं होता
बहुत हस्सास होना भी बहुत अच्छा नहीं होता
उपन्यास की पहली लाइन है-'सीढ़ियों पर सन्नाटा बैठा था' और आख़िरी लाइन है- ' यह दो स्त्रियों का ऐसा अरण्य था जहाँ कोई परिंदा भी पर नहीं मार सकता था'- इन लाइनों के हवाले से देवमणि पांडेय ने कहा कि धीरेन्द्र की ख़ूबी यह है कि सुख-दुःख, उमंग-उल्लास, स्वप्न और आकांक्षा, हर मूड के अनुसार वे भाषा क्रिएट करते हैं । इस जीवंत भाषा ने उपन्यास को बेहद पठनीय बना दिया है । अंत में पांडेय जी ने मज़ाक किया- ''धीरेन्द्र जी अच्छे कुक हैं । शायद इसी लिए किताब के हर दूसरे-तीसरे पेज़ पर कोई न कोइ डिश मौजूद है । कहीं चिकन, मटन, बिरयानी है तो कहीं पनीर और पुलाव है । इस लिए इसे पढ़ते हुए बहुत भूख लगती है ।'' संचालक आलोक भट्टाचार्य ने जोड़ा- इसे पढ़ते हुए प्यास भी बहुत लगती है । फ़िल्मकार सागर सरहदी ने भी इस प्रसंग में इज़ाफ़ा किया । फ़िल्म 'बाज़ार' के समय उन्होंने अभिनेत्री स्मिता पाटिल से कह दिया था - 'मैं अच्छा कुक हूँ । अगर यह फ़िल्म नहीं चली तो मैं सड़क किनारे ढाबा खोल लूँगा ।' डॉ.राजम पिल्लै ने इस कृति की नायिका मल्लिका और मोहन राकेश के नाटक 'आषाढ़ का एक दिन' की मल्लिका की रोचक तुलना करते हुए कहा कि औरत जब अपने लिए स्पेस चाहती है तो निर्मम हो जाती है । बाद में धीरेन्द्र अस्थाना की पत्नी ललिता अस्थाना ने इससे सरेआम असहमति जताई ।
नवनीत के सम्पादक विश्वनाथ सचदेव ने मुंबई के चारकोप इलाक़े को ग्लोबल बनाते हुए कहा कि यह उपन्यास मानवीय अनुभूतियों का कोलाज है । प्रतिष्ठित फ़िल्म लेखक -निर्देशक सागर सरहदी ने रचनाकार से असहमति जताते हुए कहा कि फ़िल्म में जाने के बावजूद नायक-नायिका को थिएटर नहीं छोड़ना चाहिए था । कथाकार उदय प्रकाश की कहानी 'मोहनदास' पर बनने वाली फिल्म के निर्माता तथा 'आशय' पत्रिका के सम्पादक वी.के.सोनकिया ने लेखकीय संकट जैसे कुछ संजीदा मुद्दों पर श्रोताओं का ध्यान आकर्षित करने की कोशिश की । आकर्षित होने के बजाय श्रोता आपस में बातचीत करने लगे तो वे वापस लौट गए । डॉ.रामजी तिवारी ने कहा कि उनके पास बोलने के लिए कुछ नहीं है मगर वे बीस मिनट तक बोलते रहे । आरजेडी के महासचिव अशोक सिंह ने भी पुस्तक पर विचार व्यक्त किए । भारतीय ज्ञानपीठ से प्रकाशित 'देश निकाला' का लोकार्पण डॉ.रामजी तिवारी ने किया और प्रथम प्रति साहित्य अनुरागी रामनारायण सराफ को भेंट की । सराफ जी को इससे पहले 60 पुस्तकों की प्रथम प्रतियां प्राप्त हो चुकीं हैं । मगर यह पहली पुस्तक है जिसे पढ़कर उन्होंने नया रिकार्ड बनाया । संचालक आलोक भट्टाचार्य ने हमेशा की तरह बोलने में कोई कोताही नहीं बरती । कभी कभी जब वे चुप हो जाते थे तो वक्ताओं को भी बोलने का अवसर मिल जाता था ।
कुल मिलाकर एक कथाकार के औपन्यासिक विमर्श में कवियों का बहुमत रहा । 6 कवियों ने परिचर्चा में भागीदारी की । 7वें कवि ने संचालन किया और 8वें कवि कन्हैयालाल सराफ ने बड़े रोचक अंदाज़ में आभार व्यक्त किया । इस कार्यक्रम में मुम्बई के रचनाकार जगत से श्री नंदकिशोर नौटियाल , डॉ. सुशीला गुप्ता, मो.अयूबी, यज्ञ शर्मा, विभा रानी,गोपाल शर्मा, हस्तीमल हस्ती, सिब्बन बैजी, संजय मासूम, हरि मृदुल आदि मौजूद थे । संगीत जगत से गायिका सीमा सहगल, डॉ. सोमा घोष, डॉ. परमानंद आदि मौजूद थे । कार्यक्रम की शुरुआत में रंगकर्मी हबीब तनवीर, कवि ओमप्रकाश आदित्य, नीरजपुरी, लाड़सिंह गुर्जर और ब्रजेश पाठक मौन के प्रति श्रद्धाँजलि व्यक्त की गई ।
In art or literature a true artist will always try to build up a resistance so that democracy could be preserved and democratic values saved, whatever may be its circumstances! In todays war-torn volcanic world finding that trust is not so easy, when people are manipulated according the whims of each and any politician...in the country or abroad. 
How strange are those old recollections which haunt us without our being able to get rid of them! This one is so very old that I cannot understand how it has clung so vividly and tenaciously to my memory. Since then I have seen so many sinister things, either affecting or terrible, that I am astonished at not being able to pass a single day without the face of Mother Bellflower recurring to my mind's eye, just as I knew her formerly long, long ago, when I was ten or twelve years old.
In the ongoing saga of battle between gods (Devtas) and demons ( asuras) , on one occassion the gods lost all their strength due to a curse by the short-tempered Durvasa rishi The sage once presented a garland of flowers to Indra, king of gods, who carelessly gave it away to his elephant named Eravat, who trampled on it. The Devtas approached Vishnu for help. Vishnu asked them to churn the ocean kscheer Sagar which was white as milk. "Mandar Mountain had to be used as the churning stick.", He said. He also asked them to request asuras to help them in lifting the mountain in exchange for the share of goods , like nector of immortality that would ensue from the churning. Both the devtas and asuras churned the ocean using the serpant Vasuki as the rope. Playing a machiavellian trick, Indra, King of the Gods asked the asuras to hold the head end of Vasuki, which asura took , only to be deceived as the poison from Vasuki was slowly weakening asuras. As churning was prceeding, the mountain started to sink, then Lord Vishnu took the form of a kurma (tortoise) and took the mountain on his back, thus keeping it afloat. As soon as the Amrit Kalash ( bowl full of the nctor of immortality) was out, the asuras grabbed it. Then vishnu took the form of Mohini ( a beautiful maiden) and seduced the asuras into letting her distribute the nector and also to abide by her order of distribution. As the devtas were served the apsara disappeared immediately; thus totally deceiving the asuras and making them weak . 
He ain't got no tail either.
विविधा
ओमप्रकाश आदित्य.
नीरज पुरी.
लाड़सिंह गूजर.
-श्रद्धा उपाध्याय, मुम्बई 
