Gas Cylinder For Rs 10,000. Are You Joking?

The geopolitical tensions in the Strait of Hormuz are causing a cooking gas crisis in India, impacting food prices, restaurant operations and forcing consumers to adapt to new cooking methods.

What started as a faraway conflict between the US, Israel and Iran has now entered Indian kitchens like an uninvited relative who refuses to leave.

Worse, this guest eats all your food.

The villain of this story? Not just geopolitics.

It's a narrow little water route called the Strait of Hormuz.

The name sounds fancy but the strait -- let's recall our school geography here; a strait is a natural, narrow waterway connecting two larger bodies of water -- is currently dangerous.

Much of our LPG supply travels through this route from places like Qatar and the UAE.

Now that route is tense.

Ship captains are nervous. Supply is slow.

And suddenly you see India playing musical chairs with gas cylinders.

No cylinder? No cooking.

No cooking? No food.

No food???

Now it gets personal.

Let's start with the morning newspaper.

Normally the front page ads scream:

'Buy 2 BHK!'

'Invest in IPO!'

'Luxury living!'

But now?

Welcome to the era of... induction cooktops. Everywhere. Ads screaming:

'Make biryani!'

'Make momos!'

'Make your life better without gas!'

Even in the Mumbai heat, there are no AC ads. Because sweating is fine. But not eating? Impossible.

If you have a PNG connection, popularly called as 'piped gas wala flat' in Mumbai lingo, you are royalty right now.

You probably look at gas cylinder users the way iPhone users look at Android users.

And if you use gas cylinders... welcome to The Hunger Games: Gas Edition.

The reality of gas cylinder shortages

My personal reality check came in Santa Cruz West, a well-off suburb in northwest Mumbai.

I went to eat at my favourite vegetarian restaurant.

Closed.

Not for renovation. It wasn't a holiday.

It was closed because they didn't have gas cylinders that they could use. Their cylinders were empty.

Simple.

A fully functioning restaurant defeated by missing gas cylinders.

Imagine telling your boss: 'Sorry, no work today. Gas khatam.'

Then came the cylinder spotting moment.

I saw a man carrying a gas cylinder like it was gold.

Honestly, it probably was.

I stopped him. Asked casually, "Bhai, kitne ka?"

"Rs 5,000."

"Why are you paying Rs 5,000 for a cylinder?" I asked. A cylinder costs Rs 1,200 in Mumbai.

At this rate, would people soon need to take loans for dal-chawal, I wondered.

I asked, "Why so expensive?"

He looked at me like I was stupid.

"Khaana nahi khayenge kya? (Won't I eat food or what?)"

Fair point. Debate over.

Then, another man joined in. In India, no conversation is ever between just two people.

He said he paid Rs 2,200 for a gas cylinder three days earlier.

Why?

"Panic."

His father is ill, suffering from cancer. He needs hot water for his bath every day. For which he needed? A gas cylinder to heat the water.

So the son paid extra. Slept better.

The government says, 'No shortage. Don't panic.'

The public says, 'Okay.' Then goes and orders two extra cylinders that may not be needed.

Then came the prophecy.

"Soon, a cylinder will cost Rs 10,000."

I laughed. Loudly.

He didn't.

He said, "Likh ke le lo (Take it down in writing). Rs 10,000 mein gas cylinder milega (A gas cylinder will cost Rs 10,000)."

I walked away wondering which fool's paradise he lived in!

One week later, I was sitting at a small coffee shop. Some street vendors are sitting idle. Not working. Just existing.

One guy gets a call. 'Cylinder available.'

His face lights up.

Then comes the price. 'Rs 10,000.'

His face drops faster than the stock market in free fall.

He shouts, abuses, rejects the offer.&

I learnt a hard lesson at that moment. Business decisions in India are now based on cylinder prices.

Startup idea: GasCoin. Invest now.

The rise of induction cooktops

Then I went to Bandra, a posh northwest Mumbai suburb. To a Chinese restaurant. Good food. Reliable.

This time? The service was slow.

"What happened?" I asked.

"No gas cylinder," said the manager.

The government, he said, has stopped supplying gas cylinders to restaurants and eateries.

"Then how are you cooking?" I asked.

"Induction," he said.

Ah yes. India's latest, most popular saviour.

Electric stoves have entered like a Bollywood hero in the second half.

Slow motion. Background music.

The owner had almost shut the place.

45 employees. Salaries. Stress.

Then he did what every Indian does during a crisis -- tried jugaad.

Bought four induction machines from Delhi.

The cost? Rs 45,000.

In Mumbai, it would have cost him Rs 90,000. The same machines. But the price was double.

Demand-supply capitalism was basically cocking a snook and saying, 'Good luck.'

The food came late. But tasted the same.

Plot twist.

So, all this time, gas was not the secret ingredient. It was the chef.

Respect.

The restaurant manager said they used 20 cylinders a week earlier.

20!

Now? All electric.

At this rate, the next MasterChef India contest will have a new rule:

'No gas allowed. Only induction. Survival round.'

Adapting to the crisis

Meanwhile, newspapers are giving life advice.

Detailed guides.

'How to make your gas last longer.'

Tips like:

Soak the dal.'

'Use the pressure cooker.'

'Don't overcook.'

'Lower the flame.'

Basically, cook like your grandmother has been telling you to since forever.

And then, the emotional line:

'Save gas for yourself and the nation.'

Because the nation is now emotionally involved in your kitchen.

If you cook a meal for too long, somewhere a policymaker feels pain.

A war far away is deciding what we eat, how we cook and how much we pay.

From missiles to masala to gas cylinders, everything is connected.

But we Indians? We adjust.

We complain. We joke. We overpay. We innovate.

And somehow... we still manage to cook and eat.

Because one thing is clear:

You can mess with global politics.

You can block sea routes.

But never underestimate an Indian's determination to have hot food on time. It is called jugaad.

• THE MIDDLE EAST CONFLICT