A deceptive stillness

Gen Z and the spontaneous ‘revolution’: the movement has not ended. It has only paused.

Text and pictures by Navonil Dey in Nepal

The calm and the stillness is deceptive. It hides many stories.

Aditya, a 21-year-old barista from Chitwan in Nepal, works long hours in what he calls his “training period”. The café job is only a bridge toward going abroad. It gives him experience, but not a stable future.

He and his two friends, Naman and Juned, from Chitwan, often recall how the early days of the recent ‘revolution’ in their country were shaped almost entirely by young people like them. When social media was banned, VPNs and alternative apps brought even more youth into the movement. The ban became a trigger, not a barrier.

For this group, everyday life itself was a source of frustration: corruption they witnessed, jobs that didn't lead anywhere, salaries that couldn't sustain a future, and the agonizing sense that only the well-connected "nepo kids" had a genuine chance to advance. Older people had seen these issues for years but stayed silent. It was Gen Z who pushed first, and older generations followed only when the momentum became impossible to ignore.

Unlike in the past, as in the pro-democracy and anti-monarchy struggle, their anger was not born from ideology -- but from a hard, hopeless and frustrating life of daily struggle.

In Lumbini, where Buddha was born, anger took a different shape. A middle-aged driver explained how several villages were cleared to create new monastery zones while ordinary workers struggled to earn. Although not from Gen Z, he joined the protests because the consequences of corruption had reached his home. His experience shows how frustration spread across regions far from the capital.

Next is the voice of Sabina Gurung from Pokhara, who is under 20, politically conscious, but not really involved in the community. Although her mother prevented her from participating, she was well aware of the problems: leaders who speak of the young while remaining connected to established power circles, secret alliances, and false promises, eternally betrayed.

Her family was severely impacted by the curfew and economic losses, which made participation much more difficult. Sabina still hopes to start a café someday, but neither the ‘revolution’ nor the government have made that happen, as yet.

Across these regions, one message stays constant: young Nepalis want fairness more than speeches. They want genuine opportunity, not a future blocked by corruption. They want leaders who stand with the people, not leaders who disappear when pressure rises.

The collective and spontaneous protests created unity for a moment, but unity alone cannot solve structural problems. When justice did not come quickly, hope stretched thin. Yet, the movement has not ended. It has only paused.

The questions raised by this generation remain alive, waiting for answers. Their frustration comes from lived reality, not ideology.

Their disappointment grew when powerful figures escaped accountability. Their uncertainty rose when early energy faded without results.

The movement in semi-urban Nepal grew from this slow pressure. Years of entrenched corruption, shrinking jobs, stark poverty in the margins, and unequal privilege created an internal unrest that eventually crossed into the streets.

It was spontaneous because the anger was real, lived, and shared — not shaped by party leaders or political scripts.

When common people cease to accept injustice as the usual, real change starts. Gen Z in Nepal does not view this delay as a sign of failure. It signifies the start of a political consciousness that could influence not only their generation but also those that follow.

Nepal is a stunningly beautiful nation, but its beauty does not save it from political avarice. Even an imperfect flame can illuminate the way to better times, so sometimes a botched revolution is preferable to stillness.

It is challenging to understand Nepal's Gen Z from the available data, but one thing is clear: speaking up after decades of dissatisfaction is not a bad thing. When institutions fail again and time again, losing control is nearly inevitable.

The most important question is whether this generation will become conscious and organized ("class for itself"), or stays loosely bound by shared hardships ("class in itself"  -- as EP Thompson wrote).

The revolution may be delayed, but the awakening is not — and spontaneous truth always carries more force than controlled quiet.

There is a certain stillness in the air these days in Nepal. However, these pictures tell a story. It reminds of a storm which has passed weeks ago. And it is also a reminder, that another one, might be building up, once again, at the threshold.

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Navonil Dey is Assistant Professor of Political Science at Egra SSB College, Egra, East Medinipur, West Bengal. A graduate and postgraduate from Jadavpur University, he specialises in Strategic Studies, Defence, Foreign Policy, and International Relations. His works often blend academic insight with a storyteller’s eye, shaped by his interests in poetry, travel, music, and writing. He focuses on the lived human experience behind political moments, especially in South Asia.