Courtyards are self-contained little worlds where all of life from birth to death occurs. Four walls and a pan-tiled grass laden roof. Underneath the eaves red chillies hang like pendant-shaped earrings.</p>

The school boys in their blue shirts and overlong trousers. Girls with pony-tails in their hair, water bottles slung over their shoulders. Smiling they all march off in file into Patan Durbar square.</p>

The start of a brand new day.</p>

Cross-legged didis beat rice on ratan mats, complaining of the cost of garlic. How could the price go up so quickly? 

Sitting on benches around the edge of the courtyard Topi headed men slurp scalding hot chiya out of shot-shaped glasses. After years of chiya and inactivity the 
tips of their fingers are hard and calloused; immune to the heat. </p>
Mankaji tinkered with his bike before going off to sell eggs. Every morning his chain comes off his bike and every morning he puts it back on again. How he longed for a Hero Honda. Oh, how his life would be so much easier!</p>

Today it was Meena's turn to go and collect the water from the local standpipe. Well, it always seemed to be her turn.<p>

Green, snotty-nosed, undressed babies crawl amongst the napping hounds, vying for their tail-wagging attention. Moodily, the scruffy mongrels get up, stretch and find a quieter corner. Well how could they bark all night if they didn't get their daily eight hours of sleep?</p>

In the evenings, teenagers flirt and boast by the light of their mobile phones, praying that the power cut will not end too soon.</p>

The courtyard never really sleeps, lit by oil lamps, butter candles and low-watt bulbs, with the hiss of pressure cookers, their safety valves building up to an ear-splitting crescendo. The grating clanking of metal-on-metal. Steel mortar and pestle grinding fresh herbs and spices.</p>

Televisions flicker behind the screen-covered windows. Endless Bollywood movies play.</p>

Rats lean out precariously, trying to grab at the cornhusks draped between the arches. Slow-blinking owls stand guard nightly. And it is rumoured that Raj has never left the confines since the Royal massacre. 
