For a capital city, Kathmandu certainly goes to sleep pretty early. By eight, traffic-logged streets are empty, a motorcycle heads home catching street dogs and stray cattle in its headlights.

Kathmandu always closed down early, but now with the power cuts it goes to bed even earlier. Even when electricity is available, street lamps are often dim and spread too widely to illuminate the gallis. Yet, in the back alleys of Kathmandu city-zens have found a way around in the dark.

As darkness falls, street vendors turn on battery-powered lamps in an effort to hawk the remainder of their wares. Corner convenience stores use candles. Mina Tamang deftly measures out a kilo of tomatoes for a customer under the orange glow of the flame.

Bonfires are also a common sight. As the working day draws to a close, Sanu Basnyat burns the rubbish in front of his store. The Basnyat family gathers around the warmth of the flames. "We don't do this every day, just sometimes when it's cold," says his son, Narvin. Finally, the fire dies out and Basnyat packs up his store. Elsewhere, the metal clanks of shutters rolling down can be heard. Like the rest of Kathmandu, even the gallis are turning in for the night.