The air in our Mumbai office building took on a distinctly metallic, acrid scent late last Friday. Over at the small canteen on our floor, the proprietor had quietly swapped out his empty gas cylinders for kerosene-fuelled pressure stoves.

Procuring a fresh cylinder had become an impossible task, forcing him to buy two pressure stoves at a steep premium in a bustling central Mumbai market just the day before.

Then came the hunt for the fuel itself.

Kerosene, traditionally sold through public distribution system (PDS) ration shops that have largely vanished from major cities like Mumbai, carries a sticker price of around Rs 61 a litre.

On the thriving secondary market that sprouted up almost overnight, the canteen owner paid upwards of Rs 110 a litre.

The kerosene keeps the fires literally burning in his tiny kitchen, but the stoves lack the efficiency required for peak lunch-hour demand—to say nothing of the soot and smell now clinging to the walls.

He is not alone in this scramble.

According to a weekend report in The Indian Express, Great Punjab—a 66-year-old iconic restaurant—switched entirely to electric coil stoves.

The pivot was costly and clumsy. The owner spent over Rs 50,000 on five new stoves and another Rs 25,000 to rewire the kitchen.

The head chef lamented that the coils only begin cooking once they turn red, doubling the preparation time for their chana gravy. When last heard, Great Punjab was hunting for more stoves in a market that had already been cleaned out.

The Anatomy Of A Bottleneck

To understand why Mumbai's iconic eateries and office canteens are suddenly cooking over kerosene and electric coils, one must look at India's acute macroeconomic dependence on Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG).

The math is unforgiving. India consumes roughly 31 million tonnes of LPG annually.

Domestic production accounts for just 13 million tonnes; the remaining 18 million tonnes are imported. Crucially, 90% of those imported volumes flow through the Strait of Hormuz or via the Persian Gulf.

In an era of geopolitical volatility, that equation alone explains the impossible odds India faces in bridging its sudden supply-demand gap.

Incidentally, India imports 90% of its crude oil as well of which around 30% now comes via the Strait of Hormuz, versus around 50% before the war started.

This imported vulnerability for gas is exacerbated by a massive, state-led demand surge.

There are currently around 330 million active domestic LPG consumers in India.

That figure has doubled over the last decade, supercharged by the government’s flagship Pradhan Mantri Ujjwala Yojana (PMUY) scheme, which accounts for over 100 million of those beneficiaries.

Conversely, the commercial sector—restaurants, hotels, and small industries—comprises just 3 million registered users.

Faced with a supply squeeze, the political calculus was inevitable. Almost two weeks ago, the government issued a notification prioritising domestic household use over commercial enterprises.

For a household, one cylinder might last a month; a restaurant burns through several in a single day. The sudden rationing left commercial kitchens instantly dry.

Piped Dream vs Cylinder Reality

Interestingly, those reliant on Piped Natural Gas (PNG) have been largely shielded from the current panic. The divergence lies in the chemistry and the supply chain.

LPG is a byproduct of the petroleum cracking process—a mixture of butane and propane yielded alongside petrol and diesel. PNG, on the other hand, is sourced directly from Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) drawn from oil wells.

While India still imports roughly half of its LNG (again, mostly from the Persian Gulf and Qatar), the domestic buffer is stronger, as only 25% or so goes for domestic consumption.

And the government has proactively diverted supplies from industrial uses to City Gas Distribution networks.

Yet, weaning India off the LPG cylinder is a monumental logistical hurdle.

The current system requires cylinders to be routed back and forth from over 210 bottling plants across the country, traveling atop fuel-guzzling trucks across thousands of towns and villages year-round.

Expanding piped gas, particularly to rural areas, faces steep economic and logistical hurdles.

Speaking to me two months ago, KK Chatiwal, MD of Indraprastha Gas—India’s largest city gas distributor—expressed confidence that rural piped gas distribution could eventually achieve economies of scale.

While pilot projects show promise, a nationwide rollout will take time. And even if we have a handle on LNG supplies today, future guarantees in the global energy market are nonexistent.

The Policy Trilemma

Ultimately, it all boils down to demand calibration.

India must find new ways to fuel its kitchens. Solar energy offers an obvious, long-term alternative for cooking, heating, and cooling, aided by government rooftop solar schemes.

And this is already happening.

Policymakers are also caught in a classic catch-22.

The very government subsidies that jacked up domestic LPG demand were a necessary public health intervention, moving millions of Indian women away from highly polluting, smoke-filled, wood-burning kitchens.

There is no easy policy fix that solves the import deficit, the logistics cost, and the public health imperative all at once.

In the coming days, the market will likely stabilise as India manages to increase its LPG production or secure import workarounds.

Until then, the owner of Great Punjab and the proprietor of my office canteen will do what Indian entrepreneurs have always done: rely on sheer ingenuity in the face of adversity, in this case to feed their customers.

But as a nation looking toward long-term energy security, we must remember that forcing businesses to rely on makeshift solutions, like kerosene stoves and electric coil heaters is a symptom of a fragile system.

Ingenuity is admirable. It is not, however, a strategic choice.