When the winter morning first opens its laden eyes, when the first light of day appears at the horizon, most of us are at the peak of our dreams, or sleepily turning off our alarm clocks. But a small segment of the city is already awake, preparing for the onslaught of the day. At 5 am, there is a chance to experience the in-between world. It is neither day nor night. The city is moving, but not bustling with life. Nor is it quiet like in the dead of night.

I grew up around Basantapur and learned to walk in its nooks and gallis. To see it still in complete disarray after the 2015 quakes stings me to no end.