Samar’s restlessness has been swinging him between sadness and stimulation for several days. Dust, cotton lints, broken hair and a few dead moths have started gathering in all corners of his small room. Lying on the iron cot, he is looking towards his table and chair. When he is tired of his anxiety, he feels very lonely. As if it was the restlessness that was keeping him from feeling lonely. He is not utterly alone, he has many friends too. Everyone is far away, they talk once in a while, but they are Samar’s friends. One even called him today, after several months. The phone was not picked up.

Samar was not busy, but he turned to stone as soon as he saw the phone. The thought of not being able to make any use of the past time made him sit on the anxiety swing again. And the passing time? it sat in a corner of the room and watched him swing in his restlessness.

“That friend wouldn’t take much of my time.” He thought to himself. “How are you, friend?”, “Where are you?” “What are you doing these days?”, “How long has it been since we talked, will we meet sometime?” “Come on, take care!” It was all they could have said to each other and the restlessness of some unknown unfinished task would have hung up their phone.

Now from the edge of indifference, the anxiety swing started Samar towards the thoughts of a lover, into a stimulating fantasy. Beautiful talks happened in his head.

“How was your day, sad or excited?”,
“How was your day, are you in good health?”,
“Has anything increased your restlessness today? Look how deceitful and cruel the world is. Don’t beat yourself up.", “Let’s go see Jawan tomorrow.”, “I am with you lover, you will do everything”, “I also want to modify my relationship with my workplace, I have decided.”

For some time his fantasies had kept the unpleasant restlessness from swinging him again. Suddenly a cloud made Samar sad. This cloud, from his first ocean of love, his family, where all the rivers of his deeds were formed and where they seem to meet.

Samar usually talks to his family only after coming down from the swing. If they find him restless on a video call, then it automatically takes the form of study or work. Every time, it takes the same form, it has been more than twenty-five years for this excuse to be used. No, Samar is not some unknown top actor, this lie is well-recognized by all the family members. Samar’s theatre started-

“Hello Mummy”, it has been many years since he said “Namaste”. “And all is well?”, “Ha, and how are you?”, asked Samar, stealing his glance from the camera. “Are you working on something?”, “Yes, I am studying, How is—”, “Do it, do it, He is okay.” “Stay busy, stay healthy, stay cool” said his father’s voice. “Okay, bye, good night.”

Samar became restless again. He detests this role of his theatre the most. Every loved one, stranger, friend, and enemy becomes a mere spectator of this character. No one asks or tells him anything. He was back on his swing. His time went back to some corner to wait.

“Generally, after an extended period, parents play the role of mere spectators.” Samar was immediately filled with self-loathing at this banal thought. To keep his family-oriented consciousness complete, he started feeling for his parents. After all, they have spent much more time than Samar with this deceitful and cruel society. They continued to fulfil the responsibilities of society, quickly and within its time limits. They remained busy. It is common for them to remain busy with work despite being restless. They were never given time to ask or tell anything about it, nor was it taken from them.

“Since I have never seen them express their uneasiness, if not deny, I too cannot. Where is the point of being a spectator in this?”, “Well by this logic, I too was a spectator in all my teenage years”, a rebellious thought sneered. Before disgust surrounded him, the swing was pushed towards curiosity.

“Oh, is that why all my friends have given up all deadlines, to protest against these societal expectations?” As soon as he hung up the phone, Samar became curious about this new idea. As if he had found the answer to some difficult question.

“Not society, we are now giving time to the anxiety arising from its processes.” This time the thought was inspired by social justice and he started doing a scientific analysis of it with and of the restlessness in his thoughts.

“But the restlessness is increasing with time, no solution will be found like this.” How will Samar penetrate this maze?

“This restlessness is not mine alone. Some I have taken from my family, some I have taken from society. The families are anxious as to when will we give time to social duties? The society is anxious as to when will we be able to start a new family? Another patriarchal and capitalist family. Whose primary goals will also be power and wealth. What a lot of middle-class goals! Undoubtedly UPSC is the wet dream of the middle class.” Without a social science degree, Samar continued his analysis in the language of his experiences.

“Why can’t the middle class see clearly that the growing weight of anxiety is simply shifting shoulders with each generation?”

“Why are hard-working parents giving priority to only power and wealth to protect the next generation from restlessness?”,

“Why is every person’s merit being weighed on this scale?”,

“Why is power and money with men who commit deceit, fraud, corruption and crime and why is this a common thing?”,

“Why is our worth not being seen through knowledge, love, fraternity and new ideas?” Thinking this, Samar realized that these were no new ideas.

These ideas are as ancient as industrialization and capitalism itself. For how many years have these ideas been roaming around as anxiety among innocent and curious people. “Patriarchal society and capitalist lives!” He sneered to himself while mindlessly picking at his phone.

“If a loving person could unite everyone’s anxiety, revolution will surely come.”

“And everyone lives in delolulu because the society that has created this terrible reality is not capable of dealing with it.”, he was tired from the anxiety swing, dejected.

The moisture in his palms started drying up. And in loneliness, he realized that time was moving too. He made some taps and made a call. Ringing… ringing… The phone was not picked up.