The LPG Crisis and Other Musings

Vivekananda once said, “You can’t practice religion if you’re hungry.” Lately, I’ve been thinking the same applies to everyday life: you can’t focus on deadlines, client calls, or even folding laundry when your mind is doing mental gymnastics over an empty LPG cylinder.

Mornings begin with a small, private prayer - please let the empty gas cylinder be replaced today by a full one. I still have my second cylinder keeping the stove burning, but even boiling that cup of morning tea feels like a luxury, and forces me to think - what if I could use my electric kettle instead of burning precious gas? Sigh!

Outside, the autos are lined up in long queues at the gas pump for 8 to 12 hours, or sometimes more. The struggle is harsher for those poor souls. And watching that snaking line move is like watching a slow-motion parade of patience and resignation.

Meanwhile, prices of basics creep up like a stealthy cat: quiet, inevitable, and always landing on your grocery bill. You try to plan meals, but the menu of the day is dictated by what’s affordable and what won’t require burning the stove for long. Suddenly, “what’s for dinner?” becomes a strategic exercise in resource management.

All of this chips away at the small comforts that make life manageable - an uninterrupted cup of tea, a calm commute, the ability to cook without scheduling it like a military operation. When your energy and time are spent chasing essentials, there’s little left for the small rituals that keep you sane.

Still, there’s a strange camaraderie in the chaos. Neighbors swap tips, the chaiwala in the corner of the lane knows your order by heart, and someone always has a sympathetic ear for your ranting. Humor becomes a survival skill: we joke about starting a pilgrimage to our gas dealer, or about opening a museum exhibit titled “Artifacts of Patience: The Queue.”

If there’s a lesson here, it’s this: basic needs are the foundation of everything else. Fix the stove and people's livelihoods, and suddenly, prayers, work, and small joys have room to breathe. Until then, I’ll keep my sense of humor polished, my phone charged for LPG cylinder delivery updates, and my appetite for both food and life intact.