“We Are Down to Our Last Cylinder”: The Inside Story of India’s Commercial Gas Crisis

The flames in the tandoors of Mumbai and the woks of Bengaluru are flickering out. And it has nothing to do with a lack of customers.

Across India’s metropolitan cities—from the busy by lanes of Kolkata to the corporate lunch spots in Delhi—a silent crisis is unfolding. It doesn’t start in the kitchen, but 2,000 kilometers away, in the troubled waters of the Strait of Hormuz.

The ongoing conflict in the Middle East has triggered a chain reaction that is now emptying commercial Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG) supplies in India. While the government scrambles to secure reserves, the hospitality industry is staring down the barrel of a temporary shutdown.

“The situation has now become even more critical. Commercial LPG distributors have completely stopped supplying cylinders,” the Chennai Hotel Association recently wrote in a desperate letter to Prime Minister Narendra Modi .

This is not just a supply chain issue; it is a human crisis unfolding in the kitchens that feed the nation.

Indian Woman Kitchen Under LPG Shortage Crisis

The Anatomy of a Shortage

To understand why your favorite restaurant is serving a limited menu today, you have to look at the math of dependency. India consumes roughly 31.3 million tonnes of LPG annually, and nearly 87% of that is meant for household kitchens—the 14.2-kg cylinder that cooks your dal at home.

The remaining 13% is the lifeblood of the commercial sector: the hotels, the roadside stalls, the banquet halls, and the railway kitchens. But here is the kicker—62% of India’s total LPG requirement is imported, and historically, 85-90% of those imports flowed through the Strait of Hormuz.

When that strait became a conflict zone, those imports stopped. And when the pie shrinks, someone has to go hungry.

The government, invoking the Essential Commodities Act, 1955, did what any administration would do: it prioritized the household . The domestic cylinder became sacred. The commercial cylinder became a luxury.

The Restaurant Countdown: 72 Hours to Closure

In Mumbai, the mood is grim. The AHAR (Hotel and Restaurant Association of Western India) dropped a bombshell this week: nearly 20% of the city’s hotels and restaurants have already shut their kitchens temporarily.

“We are only serving sandwiches, salads, and other items which can be prepared without the use of gas,” said Mohar Singh, manager at the lawyers’ canteen at the Delhi High Court, encapsulating the desperation of thousands.

Down south in Bengaluru, the Bruhat Bengaluru Hotel Owners Association reported that 25-30 hotels were hit immediately as suppliers simply stopped providing gas. For those still open, it is a game of survival.

Rahul Rohra, who runs Veranda in Mumbai’s Bandra, pointed out the cultural cost of this crisis. “High-flame cooking, particularly for Pan-Asian and Oriental dishes, has come to a near halt as induction cannot replicate that intensity,” he said.

Chefs are being forced to revert to primitive methods. Shiladiya Chaudhury, owner of popular chains Oudh 1590 and Chowman, told reporters they are prioritizing tandoor items cooked in coal-based ovens, while electric alternatives prove inefficient for other dishes.

But not everyone can pivot. Bangalore Thindi, a famous eatery on Infantry Road known for its heavy footfall, simply declared it would serve only beverages for now.

Faced with uncertainty, many restaurants across India are experimenting with new approaches like Induction cooktops, Electric ovens, Coal-based tandoors, Reduced menus, Faster cooking dishes. However, the transition is not simple.

The Human Cost: Unemployment and the Black Market

When a restaurant closes, even temporarily, the ripple effect is brutal. The waiters, the cleaners, the delivery boys—they are the first to feel the pinch.

Mumbai’s iconic Dhobi Ghats, the world’s largest open-air laundries, have ground to a halt. These are not just businesses; they are ecosystems employing over 5,000 workers who wash 4 lakh garments daily for hotels and hospitals. Without gas to boil water for starching, the vats are cold. Workers are losing daily wages of Rs 800, and the uniforms of the Taj and Oberoi hotels are lying unwashed.

Where there is scarcity, there is profiteering.

Reports from Noida, Lucknow, Delhi, and Bhubaneswar indicate a thriving black market. A commercial 19-kg cylinder, which normally costs around Rs 1,900, is now being sold for Rs 3,000 . Desperate restaurant owners, staring at lost business, are forced to pay up or shut down.

Even domestic Ujjwala cylinders, meant for the poor, are being diverted and sold at nearly double the price .

Trains, Fertilizers, and Factories: The Domino Effect

It isn’t just restaurants. The Indian Railway Catering and Tourism Corporation (IRCTC) , which serves nearly 17 lakh meals daily, is in turmoil. Base kitchens, where food for long-distance trains is prepared, are running on empty. Reports suggest IRCTC is considering temporarily halting cooked meal services and refunding passengers .

The government has issued a strict priority list via the Natural Gas (Supply Regulation) Order, 2026 .

• Top Priority: Domestic PNG, CNG for transport, and LPG production. These get 100% supply.

• Second Priority: Fertilizer plants, crucial for food security, get 70%.

• Third Priority: Industrial consumers and tea manufacturers get 80%.

• The Losers: Petrochemical facilities and power plants face curtailment, with refineries asked to cut gas use by 35% .

This means that while your car might get CNG, the factory making your plastic bottles or the plant powering your grid might be running at half capacity.

At present, energy coordination is being handled by GAIL (India) Ltd, which is working with the government’s planning agencies to redirect supplies.

Is It Just the War? The Hoarding Question

While the government attributes the crisis squarely to the “force majeure” declared by suppliers due to the Iran war, the ground reality suggests another layer of complexity .

To prevent artificial scarcity, the government has now extended the minimum gap between domestic LPG bookings from 21 days to 25 days. This is a clear signal that they suspect hoarding.

“There is no shortage,” the Oil Ministry maintains officially, stating that production is at full capacity and alternative supplies are being sourced from the US, Algeria, and Australia. Yet, the queues outside distribution centers in Lakhimpur, Gorakhpur, and Varanasi tell a different story. Many industry insiders suspect that panic buying by consumers and hoarding by distributors and suppliers will be worsening the situation.

Prashant, a resident of Lakhimpur, summed up the common man’s anxiety: “I did not receive my cylinder even five days after booking. Earlier, deliveries were made the same day.”

What Happens Next?

The hospitality industry is resilient, but it needs a roadmap. The Hotel and Restaurant Association of India has advised its members to gradually adopt electric cooking, but the capital expenditure for a small eatery to switch from gas to high-power induction is prohibitive.

For now, the nation is adapting. Kitchens are trimming menus. Tandoors are being lit with coal. Induction plates are being dusted off.

But if the Strait of Hormuz remains closed and the conflict drags on, the 20% of restaurants that have shut in Mumbai might just be the beginning. And for the workers counting their daily wages, the next meal might be harder to come by than the one they usually serve.

The long term burning issue will be unemployment as apart from other industries, India’s restaurant industry employs millions of people—from chefs and waiters to delivery workers and supply vendors.

If the gas shortage continues, temporary closures could become unavoidable for some establishments and potential consequences may include: temporary restaurant closures, higher food prices, reduced employment in hospitality, disruption in catering and events, lower supply for food delivery platforms.