Have You Seen Them All?

Inspired by the ongoing #Pixar140orless in twitter, I decided to summarise some of my favourite animated movies in 140 characters or less. 

Take a challenge and let me know how many movies you recognise and which ones you don't. (no cheating!)

If any new/better summary pops in your mind, do use the comment box.

[1]A widowed old man seeks to live his dream with unwanted help from a very young scout and a dog; in the process finds home.

[2]Outerspace giant robot crashes on Earth and secretly bonds to a curious eight year old boy regardless of age, planet, flesh and iron!

[3]A clumsy Giant Panda, now a dragon warrior, realises how the secret ingredient of the dragon scroll, like his father's soup, is “nothing”.

[4]A villain adopts three little girls in order to steal the moon only to end up trading the moon for the girls.

[5]An outcast rat takes the phrase from an excellent chef 'Anybody can cook!' to a whole new level!

[6]With an unconventional pet of a cute deadly dragon, a frowned upon boy learns to fly and ends up saving both the human and dragon community.

[7]A story of love between a Monster and a child that wins over fear, hatred & ends up solving energy crisis of Monster world.

[8]The clumsy evil do-er blue alien suffers through an ambition crisis, when he successfully eliminates the supposed super hero of the town.

[9]A toy's soul purpose is to be played with by a child. But what if a space toy doesn't know it's a toy? It's a cowboy's duty to convince him.

[10]A red-haired princess, who refuses to do her princess-ly duties, tries to undo her mistakes by being brave against guilt.

[11]An underrated and undaunted ant genius takes on the oppressive grasshopers with the help of pretentious warrior bugs and rescues Ant Island.

[12]A rusted robot falls in love; in the process rebuilds a planet & reminds human beings the value of emotions and activities!

[13]In a lion's inner fight to forgive himself, this story takes us to the African lands where no matter what, the 'Circle of Life' goes on.

[14]An over-protective clown fish's long desperate search for his only son, caught by humans, that redefines love and freedom.

[15]Another princess: gifted with magic, kidnapped by a witch, locked in tower, rescued by a handsome robber and happily ever after. Classic.

[16]A dog's dejected realisation regarding his lack of superpowers doesn't stop him from rescuing his mistress and forgiving her.

[17]With more attractive 'Other Parents', a girl finds herself going to a parallel world again and again until her real parents go missing.

[18]A superhuman family of 4 struggles to fit in among the 'normal' people until they learn to fight the evil in camouflage!

[19]Arrogant and handsome, the fastest car on Earth loses its way into a deserted small town only to come out with some biggest lessons of life.

[20]It's a celebration of childhood innocence, where fantasy & reality coexist for two little sisters waiting for their ailing mom to come home.

I may be persuaded to share the names of all movies(if needed at all) on discreet demand.

Stella's Orange-red Gloves

(A story without climax. My hands typed it after I fell asleep on the keyboard. Hence, excuse me!)

Stella came out of her room. It stank of her. She wanted fresh air just outside her home. It always smelled a little of the nearby playground dust in a red sunset, a little of the delicious lunch that her neighbouring fat lady makes everyday and a little of some distant flowers that bloom in the evening. She put on her dark navy grey winter wear over a pale white dress. But her socks were orange-red. So were her gloves. She wore and loved them secretly.

She wanted to go on a walk. Not alone, but it could not have been helped.
"Stella, the computer is still open!"
"That's OK. Just don't touch it. It'll take care of itself in five minutes."
She hid her socks inside boring brown shoes and gloves inside her pockets. Now she was invisible. She started walking, beyond the curved railway tracks, beyond the lonely sweet shop eagerly sought after by the flies, beyond Mr Henderson's big house on whose son she had a crush on during middle school and beyond the park where everybody else went for an evening walk.

Stella has been this way since before she was born. Many times she looks down at the pebbles and wonders whether she had stamped those particular ones before. Just in case, she stamps them again. When Henderson Jr used to live with his parents, he would take tea with his parents in their balcony facing the road. He was in college already and his name in the newspaper had confirmed the local gossip of him being a bright student. She used to be careful regarding her walk and attire back then. Her mother used to accompany her and it used to be very hard to steal glances of Henderson Jr. But now Henderson Jr worked in a farm in another state. He has a pretty wife too, if Facebook is right. And Stella has grown up and grown out. 
Her orange-red gloves were peeking from her pockets. She quickly scanned the passers by whether anybody were looking at her. Negative. She was relieved. A little disappointed too. She doubted Henderson Jr's wife went so unnoticed when she walked by roads like this. Stella reminded herself she did not want to be like Henderson's wife. She felt better and continued.

In the conservative little town, she always allowed herself one small non-conservative luxury. She kept her hair open and let it swirl against the wind as she walked by. It was more of a fact that she had unruly hair which won't be tamed. But she took pleasure in saying it was by choice. Last time she went to market, she had seen an orange-red hair ribbon. It looked gorgeous. But she didn't dare to purchase it, because it couldn't be hidden if she wore it. A little itch in her mind had told her that she could hide it if she wore helmet always and went on a bike. But she stamped it. Just like she stamped the pebbles. Only that her itches give away more easily than the pebbles. She looked around; in the grey winter evening, she almost could get mixed. She wondered, if the fog could get the exact same colour as her sweater, whether it could render her partially invisible. Would she be able to see her body? How would she recognise herself? And she told herself, she needn't have worried because she could always see her bright orange-red gloves to make out her own body. By the time she realised her musing was totally unworthy, unnecessary and unreasonable, she had already completed thinking all these things. Her lips cracked to a grin and snapped shut as soon as she realised she might look like a fool out of nowhere. 

Suddenly the street lights came to life and the yellow bulbs chased the grey of the evening away. Stella looked up at them basking in the warm light. Although the new town has, now, the LED street lights and it looked posh according to the world, Stella loved the old Sodium Vapour lamps. They were still standing in the old town, in protest of monochromtising the colour of the whole town in all shades of grey.

It was time to return. Stella kept her orange-red gloves successfully hidden for one more day. Nobody knew she wasn't fully grey. Nobody sought to find out.

----------------------
Stella name has been extracted from the Facebook sticker of  "Stella Supernova: Dodge comets with this space genius on her interstellar adventures." She's very melodramatic, hyperactive and of course, a genius!

Welcome to Research!

A time invariant dedication to anyone into research.

My quantum mechanics teacher during our Master’s degree, one day, looked at our blessedly ignorant faces and took it as his duty to declare, ‘There walks not a single researcher on earth, who has shed no tears during his days of PhD!’ Keeping aside the debate regarding the validity of such a statement, that day I could see the scars of his past in his eyes. But back then I felt no compulsion to probe deeper.

Now here I stand-

1. after willingly humiliating myself in seven different interviews in five different cities;
2. storming and thundering inside home with passionate speech about why I want to do research;
3. convincing all my grandparents, uncles, aunties, cousins and some skeptic neighbours that doing research out of home town is absolutely the best idea;
4. trying not to envy friends who already have jobs;
5. and, as one of my previous posts suggests, escaping the deadly clutches of marriage-

as a fresh full-time PhD scholar. Already with a supervisor.

As soon as we joined we had to jump into this weird supervisor hunting game which reminded me of musical chair (with so many people in war over a few targets), only more ferocious and serious. We kept spying over each other lest someone else may steal our choice supervisors. Then soon began our course works. Amid all the hustle, the excitement of being in a new institute, new city and having new friends had worn off.

The senior scholars had started their preaching sessions. The long lonely ones who’s been here for endless summers, in search of fresh "empathisers", started ambushing us during lunch, dinner, tea-time, bed-time and any other time we stumbled upon them. At our shocked responses, they promptly assured us it’d not take long before we underwent similar transformations. Criticising guides would not only become normal but also quite good for health.

As work with my guide(supervisor) is accelerating, fear of not being able to keep pace made me cancel my long planned short trip home. Unsuccessful attempts at ongoing project and the approaching evil mid-semester exams are making me jump out of my skin everyday. Presentations, quizzes, solving extraterrestrial problems and head banging have become very normal. Waiting hours on supervisors, envying friends with day offs, actually being unable to find time for movies doesn't sound very strange any more. When I was given my own room in the hostel, ideas of all the things I would do- if I had a room alone for myself- didn't manifest due to sudden departure of my mental sanity.

Although we soon hope to master the art of researching-

1. which includes endless days in front of our computer (or tinker with instruments) without actually being productive;
2. art of playing hide and seek with our guide;
3. convincing the institute for a hike in stipend;
4. assuring ourselves that we are not the only ones who suck at doing research;
5. and fooling our supervisors into believing we’re the best they could have had-

for now I am learning not to let the most important days of my youth pass by before I had time to catch my breath.

Laptop Gone. Not Again!

Yesterday I was spending quality time alone with myself in the shower when mother shouted for me, ‘Chunnie! Something is wrong with your laptop!’ Stopped midstream on an Air Supply song with that ominous news, I sprang out of bathroom to my laptop. ‘Not again!’ was what I was muttering to myself. Several panicked phone calls and amateur attempts later, when my laptop refused to cooperate, I decided to take it to the service centre.

My father is a minimalist. My mother and I join forces to nag him for months before he gives a green signal to purchase any gadget at all. And this requires strategic baiting, hard bargain and persistent luring. So when one of the worshipped gadgets gives out, we never hear the end of it from him. Aside from the perpetual I-told-you-so look, a string of philosophical ideas on the detrimental effect of gadgets are thrown at our general direction. I have grown up with his severe criticism towards materialism. Irony is I love gadgets (more so because I take pride in my laziness). Irony of irony, whenever I persuade my father to purchase any gadget at all after months of research, they somehow all break down the next day after the warranty expires! If my father only dislikes gadgets, he absolutely loathes repairing them. On any average day around the year we shelter more non-functioning gadgets than working ones.

‘Don’t tell father about the laptop. Let me first take it to the service centre.’ I told mother. Father was out on some errand, bless his soul.
‘How will you go? It’s 40 degree outside, wait till evening!’ Mother said. But we both knew I had to go. After a thorough session with sunscreen, I grabbed the bike key and turned on the bike. The charge meter wobbled in the red zone.
‘There ain’t enough charge! What the hell?’ I felt like kicking the helmet to pieces.
‘Charge it for half an hour, its ok.’ Mom switched ON the plug points. I put the charger in place with utter annoyance. Behold my agony, the charger gave a spark and died. I was bathing in my sweat and feeling like it was the most miserable afternoon of my life.

While our desktop had broken down months ago, now packed in its box neglected because father refused to purchase another new hard drive for it, this problem with laptop might cost me a lot. Last morning my internet pack ended too soon for my liking. Then there’s my phone with a malfunctioning camera, mother’s phone with all of its parts malfunctioning. There’s my digital camera with a faulty memory card, three CFL light bulbs who all decided to stop working together, my headset with one side mute, a water purifier in need of immediate attention and many more. I know my father going literally through sleepless nights because of all of them. And I can’t say I don’t feel his pain.

While gadgets ease my work to a remarkable extent, none of us are ready to give the money or time required for their maintenance. They are the unwanted pain in the arse. Sometimes I promise myself I’ll do some hardware repairing course so I never have to turn to the exuberantly charging mechanists all the time; shouldn’t be difficult for a physics student although I dislike the study of electronics from the bottom of my heart.

Wrestling with the charger and the bike for some more sweating minutes, I managed to get the perfect fit where the battery started charging. Half an hour later I rode to the service centre pessimistic about the repair. Never once it has happened in my life, when I have taken something for repair and I got it back quickly. If I did, I had to loosen my pocket by a huge sum. As my father never forgets to point out, ‘ଘୋଡ଼ା ଛ’ ଟଂକା କୁ ଦାନା ନ’ ଟଂକା’. So it was a pleasant surprise when my laptop was back to normal in two minutes once I reached the service centre. I still braced myself and asked how much I had to pay. The guy made a dramatic sweeping gesture in the air and said what I never thought I’d hear, ‘It’s nothing. You don’t have to pay.’ And he went back to his work with his head inside a giant old CPU.

Bemused at my luck, feeling optimistic about the cosmic forces I rode back home. Of course I didn't forget to spend the money, I had taken for repairing, on food. It would have been a sin otherwise. While I stuffed myself, I decided again, ‘Buying gadgets ain’t so bad after all!’Later that night when father asked how my day was, I saw no harm in keeping mum about everything.

Father Asked, 'Ready To Marry?'

WARNING: Do not read the post if you’re an engineer.

23^rd year running, I have apparently hit the age to embrace marital bliss. Blithely unaware of this truth of life, I was tinkering with my Master’s degree project. Then enters my father into the room and sits himself beside me, his eyes shining peculiarly and forehead sweating profusely. My sixth sense sends me high alert signals and screams ‘RUN AWAY!’

Suddenly puzzled with my intuition I look at my father as he opens his mouth to deliver the blow.
‘We’ve been receiving proposals for you. Marriage proposals.’
All my life, I had thought, whenever this topic would be raised in my family, I’d be laughing so hard that I’d not be able to talk. But the time has come and all it has brought with it is not mirth but shock. MARRIAGE PROPOSALS! Already!? 

‘So?’ I have no idea which arrogant part of my brain was operational at that time, ‘I have been receiving proposals too. Relationship proposals.’
I guess that fairly shut him up for a while. I cannot say he could have seen it coming. But hey, he started it! Although somewhere in the back of my mind it was slowly registering there was no competition going on here.

‘Do you like someone? Do you have somebody in your mind?’ He asked without a trace of disapproval. Good question, I’d say. Fair enough. Most of my friends would kill to be asked this question by their fathers. As things go unfairly, I lack a boyfriend. While I toyed with the idea of telling him (shocking him more like) who all are actually in my mind (it would come to a large total of two digit number if I throw in the celebrity crushes) I know that was not what he meant. Like the good girl I usually pretend to be (not to give my parents heart attacks everyday) I bobbled my head to a ‘no’ while silently I added, ‘Not yet!’

The nitwit who set off this idea in my father’s brain, the prospective groom, is apparently an engineer. ‘ENGINEER!’ I cried out involuntarily!
The scatter brain will have no idea or respect towards research.
He would not understand my jokes on Physics.
Being an engineer, he couldn’t find himself a girl to marry already which clearly says a lot about his personality.
Probably he’s happy working like a cattle, drinking himself dead and cracking intellectually cheap jokes all day and night.
If not anything else, he’d be rotting in Bengaluru, Chennai or Hyderabad and settle there and die. At best he’d get himself shipped to US and settle there and die. What a rich death!
While I realise my stereotypes are clouding my judgement (I mean no offense to engineers and I appreciate their contribution to the enhancement of our world!), I sure as hell do not want to marry one. Not a doctor either, the other supposedly best profession a prospective groom can have. When I was a kid, all my friends were studying hard to get into either an engineering college or a medical one. I was no exception. I ended up in science though and now I know I made hell of a good choice for myself. I cannot begin to imagine the extent of incompatibility issues that will arise.

Since in our society education is considered as a means to occupation, I cannot radically alter my parents’ arguments. Although my vehement ‘NO!’ I am sure, shall put him off for a couple of more years, I hope to find a middle ground where both of us can bargain on a single groom to satisfy all. Tough job ahead!