"Once in an age, a single day arrives. It brings upheaval, turmoil, transformation."

Gopal Prasad Rimal wrote those words for a revolution during the final years of the Rana regime, and strangely, it has found its relevance again. The events of September 8th and 9th felt like one such day. Nepal has witnessed many political upheavals: the democratic movement that toppled the Rana regime, the People's Movement that paved the way for multi-party democracy, the Maoist insurgency, and the republican movement. Yet the current movement stands apart. In just two days, it shook the country to its core. The government fell, leaving behind destruction and anarchy, while claiming many young lives. Grief, fear, and uncertainty swept through families and communities, leaving the nation struggling to imagine what the future might hold.

What makes this movement truly unprecedented is its leadership – or rather, its absence. Driven by Gen Z and largely without a formal political organisation, this is a leaderless uprising. And as the country tries to steady itself from the uncertainty, it is worth looking into history for lessons. From the French Revolution in the 18th century to the Arab Spring in the 2010s and more recent uprisings in Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, these movements show us a pattern. They show us both the extraordinary power of leaderless movements and the challenges they face in translating energy into lasting change.

These movements don't start over political doctrines. They are often non-ideological, unlike major political upheavals throughout history. At their core, such movements are propelled by long-standing frustrations: inequality, lack of opportunity, a sense of voicelessness, corruption, and deep distrust in the political establishment and leadership. Then, when a tipping point is reached, a single spark (such as the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi in Tunisia, the student protests against the quota system in Bangladesh, or social media restrictions in Nepal) ignites everything.

Leaderless uprisings can mobilise large groups of people very quickly. Their strength lies in being perceived as authentic, less hierarchical, and free from elite capture. And it connects through visceral anger. Social media amplifies this effect, allowing movements to spread rapidly and connect participants across the country. These movements reveal the depth of ordinary people's frustrations and demonstrate their ability to act collectively without waiting for direction from established leaders.

This teaches us our first lesson: energy and authenticity can unite people quickly, but sustaining momentum requires foresight and organisation. Mobilisation is easy; consolidation is hard.

Such movements often benefit from the clarity of their demands. Simple goals, such as ending corruption or removing an unpopular leader, are easy to rally around and create a strong sense of shared purpose. However, once the movement achieves the immediate target, it often struggles to define the next step. In Egypt, after Mubarak stepped down, divisions between secularists, Islamists, and the military led to chaos. In Sri Lanka, the ouster of Gotabaya Rajapaksa did not result in systemic change, as the political elite largely reasserted itself.

Hence, the second lesson: simple and clear demands can unite people, but without a roadmap for what follows, movements risk fragmentation. Shared anger unites, but visions for the future divide.

A further challenge is the vacuum created by the absence of clear leadership or organisational structures. Without direction, it becomes difficult to negotiate gains, consolidate achievements, or guard against counter-revolutions. And the void left by a fallen regime often gets filled by the next most organised group. During the French Revolution, unstructured energy led to cycles of violence before giving rise to Napoleon's authoritarian rule. In Egypt, the army quickly regained control. In Sri Lanka, protesters ousted a president, yet the old elite returned to power soon after. Both internal factions and external actors often exploit this vacuum. Military forces, religious groups, entrenched elites, or outside powers can step in, supporting, undermining, or even hijacking movements, sometimes turning initial hopes into outcomes far from what protesters intended.

The lesson is clear: without leadership and organisational capacity, even powerful uprisings risk being co-opted before meaningful change can take root.

Movements rarely operate in a vacuum. The surrounding institutional landscape ultimately determines their ability to create lasting change. The strength and independence of the judiciary, civil society, and security forces determine whether protest gains become permanent or fade away. No matter how powerful the protests, weak or overly politicised institutions often allow change to collapse back. Tunisia is frequently cited as a relatively successful example of the Arab Spring, precisely because of its stronger civil society and a tradition of compromise that channelled energy into action.

The undeniable lesson: active citizens can force a change, but only strong institutions can keep it sustained.

Now, Nepal stands at a crossroads. The nation is deeply burdened by the grief of lost lives, the shock of destruction, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. Yet in this turmoil, there is a chance for renewal. The energy of a young generation reminds us that transformation is possible. If we learn from history, build strong institutions, and channel collective hope into meaningful action, the ashes of today can become the foundation for a more just and prosperous Nepal. This is the moment to rise, to shape the future, and to prove that once in an age, a single day can truly change everything. Despite the grief, fear, anxiety, and uncertainty, at this moment let's choose hope.