In July-August last year, Bangladesh saw a countrywide wave of young people—mostly students—flood the streets, chanting for reform, justice and a future that did not feel stolen. It was spontaneous and emotional yet powerful enough to topple a government led by Sheikh Hasina for 16 years.

Today, Nepal stands in a strikingly similar place. Its youth, angry at corruption and hopeless about jobs, turned protests into a mass uprising that forced Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli out of power. An interim government has since taken charge, with elections promised within six months.

For many, this feels like the dawn of a new chapter. But as a Bangladeshi, watching from across the border, I cannot help but offer a note of caution. In our case, the fall of a government—deeply autocratic though it was—marked only the start of a long and often frustrating journey. Unless lessons are learned quickly, Nepal may be on the verge of repeating that same path.

The first and most painful lesson is that removing a leader does not automatically repair a broken state. In Bangladesh, the fall of the old regime was followed by scenes of mob violence and widespread lawlessness. Over the past 13 and a half months, the country has, in many ways, resembled a land ruled by mobs.

According to the rights group Ain o Salish Kendra (ASK), 124 people have died from mob beatings in the first seven months of this year alone, nearly matching the 128 deaths recorded in the entire previous year. Among the most horrific incidents was the attack on September 5 in Rajbari’s Goalanda upazila, where the darbar sharif of “Nural Pagla” was vandalised, and his body exhumed and burned. The violence left one person dead and at least 22 others injured.

This way, angry yet organised crowds have repeatedly been assuming the role of judge and jury, targeting rivals or unleashing their frustration on others. The police, weakened and heavily politicised, have largely failed to restore order. As a result, a dangerous perception has taken hold: That power can be seized and defended through sheer force, rather than through laws and institutions.

Thus, restoring law and order will likely be Nepal’s most immediate and urgent challenge. If the country’s streets come to function as courts and parliaments, the promise of democracy will be eclipsed by the threat of mob rule. A movement born from frustration over injustice must not end up legitimising vigilante justice.

Yes, in Bangladesh, many of those who had led marches and endured police crackdowns were absorbed into shallow, symbolic platforms. Their voices were heard in photo-ops, not in the writing of policy. For Nepal, the challenge will be how to channel this youthful energy into lasting institutions, not just into slogans.

Another trap is the rise of what in Bangladesh we called the “king’s party.” In our country, this happened with the emergence of the National Citizen Party (NCP). The party, formed under the direct patronage of the interim government, brought together some of the key coordinators of the July Uprising.

Rather than sharing the credit for the movement with all students and the broader masses who risked their lives, a small group of leaders under this new banner attempted to monopolise the glory. They portrayed themselves as the sole heirs of the revolution. This strategy quickly backfired, as reflected in their decisive defeat in the recent campus elections at Dhaka and Jahangirnagar Universities.

Nepal should be careful not to pin all its hope on any such so-called “party of the revolution.” True democracy is messy, diverse and contested—it cannot be reduced to one group trying to crown itself as untouchable.

But perhaps the biggest disappointment in Bangladesh has been the slow or nearly non-existent reforms in the institutions that matter most: the public administration, the police and intelligence agencies. Everyone knew that without reforming recruitment, promotions and oversight, these bodies would remain vulnerable to political capture. Yet the reforms never came.

Public administration remains as troubled as ever. Police officers who once obeyed the ruling party continued to do so under new orders. Intelligence services that had spied on critics did not suddenly develop respect for rights. Corruption stayed deeply rooted because the networks that fed it were left intact.

This is why even today, despite a new political landscape, Bangladesh in many ways still feels like it did before the uprising. Different faces at the top, but the same broken machinery underneath. Unless Nepal’s interim government begins genuine reform—even small but clear steps—it risks falling into the same trap of change without change.

Of course, this does not mean elections are unimportant. In fact, returning to a democratic path as quickly as possible is crucial. Bangladesh showed that delaying a clear election date only eroded public patience, fueled conspiracy theories and gave space to spoilers. Prolonged uncertainty weakened trust in both the interim government and the political process.

Nepal should take note: Six months may feel short, but it is far better to hold a fair, transparent and well-observed election within that period than to postpone indefinitely in search of perfect conditions. Elections alone cannot fix corruption or a broken police system, but they do restore legitimacy to the people and provide the essential framework for accountability.