This drama is designed for a stage performance, and it can also be adapted for a short film. It's philosophical, emotional, and thought-provoking — ideal for high school, college, or community theater.
One-Act Play | 3 Main Characters | Approx. 15–20 minutes
PROFESSOR RANA – A seasoned economics professor, sharp, logical, and emotionally distant. A believer in the traditional model of "unlimited wants."
AYA – A sensitive and intelligent student, struggling with anxiety. Curious, introspective, and deeply connected to nature.
KAVYA – Another student, practical and skeptical. Caught between ambition and confusion.
A university economics classroom — modern, clinical, and lifeless.
On one side of the stage, a chalkboard reads:
"Principle #1: Human Wants Are Unlimited."
On the other side of the stage, barely visible, is a large window with a view of trees rustling in the wind — symbolizing nature.
(Lights up. Professor Rana stands at the board, lecturing. Students sit at desks — some taking notes, some zoning out. Aya stares out the window, lost in thought.)
PROFESSOR RANA:
And thus, we arrive at the central truth of all economic behavior: scarcity.
Because wants are infinite, and resources are limited, human beings must compete, prioritize, and optimize.
This is the bedrock of rational choice theory.
(Turns to class)
Questions?
(Aya raises her hand slowly.)
AYA:
Professor, what if... what if our wants aren’t actually infinite?
What if we’ve just forgotten how to be content?
(A silence in the room. A few students smirk. Kavya looks up, intrigued.)
PROFESSOR RANA:
Miss Aya, that’s a philosophical question, not an economic one.
We’re dealing with human behavior as it is — not as it should be.
Humans want. More and more. That’s what moves markets.
AYA:
But is it what moves life?
Isn’t it strange that we’re taught more about stock markets than soil?
That we track inflation more than inhalation?
(Kavya leans forward slightly.)
KAVYA:
But Aya, people don’t live in forests. We live in cities.
Jobs, growth, innovation — we can’t ignore that.
AYA:
I’m not ignoring it.
I’m saying we’ve made anxiety a curriculum.
We’ve taken our disconnection from nature and called it progress.
(Professor Rana sighs and steps forward.)
PROFESSOR RANA:
Miss Aya, if you're suggesting we abandon economic science for some utopian return to the jungle, I must remind you—this is a university. Not a poetry circle.
(Silence. Aya looks at the window again.)
AYA (quietly):
Maybe we need a little poetry to remind us we're still human.
(Kavya catches up with Aya outside the classroom.)
KAVYA:
You really shook things up in there.
AYA:
I didn’t mean to. I just...
I wake up every day with this tightness in my chest. Like I’m being chased by something I can’t see.
KAVYA:
Yeah. Me too.
AYA:
And the more I study economics, the worse it gets.
All I hear is: “Produce more. Buy more. Be more.”
But never: “Be still. Be enough. Just… be.”
KAVYA (pauses):
You think nature can fix that?
AYA:
Not fix. Remind.
That we're not machines.
That we’re part of something whole.
That life doesn’t compete with itself.
(The classroom is dimly lit. Professor Rana sits alone at his desk, papers scattered. He seems tired. Aya enters softly, holding a plant in a small clay pot.)
AYA:
Professor?
(He looks up, surprised.)
PROFESSOR RANA:
Miss Aya.
AYA:
I brought you something.
(She places the plant on his desk.)
It’s called Brahmi. An ancient herb. Said to calm the mind.
(He stares at it. Doesn’t speak for a moment.)
PROFESSOR RANA:
You believe this... changes anything?
AYA:
No. But maybe it’s a start.
Of seeing again. Feeling again.
(Pause. He looks out the window — the trees sway gently.)
PROFESSOR RANA (softly):
When I was a child...
I used to sit under a neem tree and do my homework.
The wind would carry the scent of the leaves. I’d forget everything else.
I haven't thought of that in years.
(Silence. The plant sits between them — alive, breathing.)
AYA:
That memory...
That's what we’re missing.
Not more data. Just more being.
(Lights fade slowly, as the rustling of trees grows louder.)
The drama reflects the clash between modern economic education and the forgotten emotional/ecological intelligence rooted in nature.
Anxiety is portrayed not as a flaw, but as a symptom of systemic disconnection.
The plant at the end is symbolic — a living reminder of what education and economics have pushed away.
It ends not with a solution, but an invitation to remember.
Would you like a script PDF, a longer version, or staging suggestions for performance (lighting, set design, etc.)?