It has become a familiar scene on Chulia Street: Mamak Indian Muslim workers sweat behind face masks as they fill brown paper bags with rice and curry, feeding residents who would prefer not to – and indeed, until a month ago, could not – dine in restaurants.

Chinese uncles and aunties wait behind kerbside stalls for the next rider of a sputtering motorcycle, who will exchange a few ringgit for a plastic bag filled with hot soup and noodles. Behind them hang red Chinese altars covered in ritual ash next to rows of padlocked shophouses that, like closed eyes, seal George Town’s multicultural secrets behind metallic shutters.