Kathmandu, May 2 -- Nani pulls the elastic band tucked behind her ear and tugs off the mask from her face. It is pink. The mask. It is modelled after a surgical mask-the same flexile lining on one end with a bunch of pleats gathering at the centre, allowing the material to unfold over the face.

But it isn't a surgical mask. It is a copy. Nani squats by the public tap, reaches for the small piece of abandoned soap. The soap has degenerated from constantly lying by the tap and from being repeatedly grabbed by several pairs of hands. Now, Nani holds it too.

The soap suds as she rubs it on her mask. The froth leaves a creamy feel on Nani's palms, otherwise dry from all the washing and cleaning she does, day in and day out. Nani rinses the m...