The geopolitical situation in the Middle East has shaken global energy markets, with its effects now being felt in the kitchens of Delhi’s working class. As ongoing conflicts disrupt international supply chains and maritime trade routes, India is grappling with a liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) crunch. Commercial LPG cylinders are becoming scarce, straining supply lines. But in the national capital, where feeding the hungry is both a daily necessity and a long-standing practice, kitchens continue to function — with cooks, vendors, and community groups adapting to the shortage.
‘None leaves hungry’
At the Bangla Sahib Gurdwara in Central Delhi, the rhythmic clatter of stainless-steel plates masks the anxiety inside one of the city’s largest community kitchens. Usually fuelled by a high-pressure bank of commercial LPG cylinders, the langar which feeds hundreds of people daily, has had to pivot its operations.
"People ask if the shortages will stop the langar, or if we will turn them away. We just tell them it’s fine, the Guru's kitchen never closes," says head sewadar Manjeet Singh. When the commercial gas trucks fail to arrive, the volunteers do not panic; they adapt.
" During the initial weeks of March when we faced shortage, we built wood-fired mud stoves in the open courtyard. Over the past week, we’ve arranged for PNG supply and have been using it.” Singh explains. “Now things are slowly improving. No one leaves hungry,” Singh said.
Less on the plate
Not all feeding initiatives possess the immense manpower of a Gurdwara to adapt so seamlessly. At the Atal Canteen in Lajpat Nagar, a government-backed initiative designed to provide five rupees subsidised meals to daily wage laborers, the strain on logistics is evident -- kitchens that shut down last week have reopened, but the shortage of food remains.
Ganesh Rai, a regular patron who pulls a cycle-rickshaw for ten hours a day, wipes sweat from his brow in a line that snakes across the entire length of the canteen. "The canteen used to give food without much waiting," Rai says. "But now there is 30% less chapati; there was a complete closure last week. It’s improved this week and food is available, but it's still less and the queues have become longer." For men like Rai, an extra hour spent waiting in line equates directly to lost daily wages.
For local eateries with no government backing or logistical capacity, the situation is more acute.
At Shiv Dhaba, a roadside eatery in Nehru nagar, coal is now being used to cook food as LPG supplies run short, says owner Anil Kumar. "It takes a lot of time to cook food using coal."
The daily economics are punishing. While a commercial LPG cylinder used to hover around ₹930, Kumar now pays a premium for a slower alternate fuel.
"Coal is ₹40 per kg. We take 100 kg daily, which is around ₹4,000, costlier in the long run," he notes. The slower cooking times inevitably mean slower table turnover. "And there has been a sales decrease by 10 to 20 percent, but we have not raised prices.” For others, desperation has driven them into the shadow economy, bringing safety risks amid burgeoning costs. At Hungry Point Fast Food, owner Sudheer Sharma is juggling soaring overheads with an entirely unpredictable supply chain.
Unpredictable times
"The supply of government cylinders has reduced, so we have had to buy them from the black market at times," Sharma says. "At times we end up buying expired cylinders also, which cost ₹2,000 to ₹2,500."
Using expired, untested cylinders is a safety hazard, but Sharma feels cornered by the crisis. Unlike Shiv Dhaba, he has increased prices by 15 percent. The global fuel crisis is currently testing Delhi’s ability to keep its kitchens running. While the stubborn spirit of jugaad keeps the fires burning for now, the soaring costs, longer queues, and black-market reliance are testing how long they can hold on.