Daily Struggles Amid LPG Shortage in Delhi
For four consecutive days, Maya Rani, 36, has been arriving each morning at a gas distributor’s office in Delhi, carrying her six-month-old daughter in her lap, enduring hours of waiting. Each day, she returns home without a cooking gas cylinder, informed that availability may not resume for at least another week. Around her, the queue continues to grow, with people holding forms and documents, hoping to secure a cylinder.
Last week, the flame in her kitchen began to diminish. Her husband, as usual, took their 5kg cylinder to a local refiller, but found none available. The only remaining option was to apply for a government-subsidised supply, a process involving repeated visits, long waits, and no guarantee of success.
“I feel like crying,” Rani said, sitting on the pavement outside the distributor’s office, trying to soothe her child. “We have been waiting for days and still don’t know when we will get gas.”
Her husband cannot afford to miss work, so she makes the rounds. “We are eating just one meal a day from outside. I’ve had to ask neighbours to help boil milk for my baby.”
Regional Impact of LPG Supply Disruption
Rani’s experience reflects a broader crisis across South Asia, where disruptions to liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) supplies triggered by the conflict in Iran have led to the region’s worst gas shortage in decades. Prices have surged, industries have scaled back or ceased operations, and widespread anxiety has taken hold.
Before the conflict effectively closed the Strait of Hormuz, this narrow maritime chokepoint handled about one-fifth of global fuel shipments, much destined for Asia.
In countries such as India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka, where LPG is essential for daily cooking, the effects have been immediate. Slowed imports have strained distribution systems, prompting governments to prioritise household supply and restrict commercial usage. The crisis has revealed a deeper vulnerability: a region with rising energy demand remains heavily reliant on supply routes susceptible to distant geopolitical disruptions.
“This level of exposure was absolutely anticipated,” said Akhtar Malik, of the Bureau of Research on Industry and Economic Fundamentals (Brief), a thinktank in Delhi. “The strait of Hormuz as a chokepoint and the risks it poses have been extensively studied and debated for years.”
However, efforts across South Asia to build strategic reserves or diversify supply sources have lagged, leaving limited capacity to absorb shocks.
“India built strategic crude reserves but did not create equivalent buffers for LPG,” Malik explained. “Globally, energy systems typically maintain 40 to 60 days of reserve cover for critical fuels. India, in contrast, has just over 20 days of LPG storage … the current stress is as much a planning gap as it is a supply disruption.”
India imports approximately 60% of its LPG, with 90% of that passing through the Strait of Hormuz. Since the strait's closure, only a fraction of the usual daily demand has been delivered.
Supplies from alternative sources, such as the United States, require weeks to arrive and come at significantly higher costs. In response, the Indian government has taken measures to stretch domestic LPG supply. Refineries have been directed to maximise LPG production for household use, and supplies have been prioritised for hospitals and educational institutions, leaving businesses struggling.
Impact on Businesses and Industries
Restaurants and hotels are among the hardest hit. Reports indicate that about one-fifth of eateries in Mumbai have either closed or reduced operations, with similar disruptions occurring in other cities. Many establishments have trimmed their menus, removing dishes that require longer cooking times.
“We have 30 items on the menu, but we’re selling no more than six,” said Nandu Kishore, manager at Shawaya House, a restaurant known for its grilled meat in the densely populated Muslim neighbourhood of Zakir Nagar in south Delhi. “Even those are only possible because we’ve started using coal.”
With Eid al-Fitr approaching, the restaurant should have been entering its peak season.
The crisis is now spreading to various industries, with gas-dependent plants beginning to scale back or halt operations. In Morbi, Gujarat, the world’s second-largest tile manufacturing centre, nearly 450 of the town’s 670 ceramic units have shut down, and about 430 factories have decided to suspend operations for at least three weeks.
For workers, the consequences have been immediate. Shahidul Alam, 46, who worked at one of the now-closed units, was waiting at a railway station on Wednesday for a train back home to West Bengal.
“The manager told us the factory is shutting and we won’t be paid,” he said. “We were already struggling to get cooking gas here. Without work, we can’t survive – how will we eat?”
He described the situation as reminiscent of the Covid-19 lockdown, when thousands of workers were forced to leave industrial towns and return home.
Social Strain and Security Concerns
In some areas, tensions are escalating. Dealers report heated arguments at gas distribution centres, and LPG trucks have become targets for theft as supplies tighten.
The shortage has also driven many households to switch to electric cooking where possible. Retailers report a surge in demand for induction burners in recent weeks, especially in cities like Delhi, with some stores noting up to a tenfold increase.
Impact on Vulnerable Populations
The poorest communities are bearing the brunt of the crisis. Ajay Mandal, 30, expressed relief after having his first proper meal in 24 hours at a government-subsidised canteen on Wednesday. The canteen, which serves meals for five rupees, had been closed for two days due to the gas shortage.
“If this crisis worsens, many poor people will go hungry,” said the construction labourer. After a 10-hour shift, he had been collecting firewood to cook for his family of six, which includes elderly parents and toddlers.
“I earn 500 rupees a day. A gas cylinder that costs around 900 rupees is now being sold for 4,000 on the black market. Even a roadside meal that used to cost 30 rupees has doubled. How are we supposed to survive?”
He paused and added quietly:
“People like us will have to eat grass if this goes on.”
