LPG shortage from Iran war fuels labour exodus from major Indian cities
For the past several days, 30-year-old Raj Kumar has been struggling to feed his family of four due to a shortage of Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG) in India's capital, New Delhi.
For weeks, he's been trying to secure some LPG to keep his kitchen running. However, fuel prices in the city have increased. He has now been forced to move to his hometown, Mahua, in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, nearly 650 kilometres from Delhi.
The gas, a mixture of propane and butane, is widely used as a primary cooking fuel in millions of Indian households, making a stable supply critical.
"It is hard to stay here anymore. We were struggling to eat properly. Seeing my children and wife suffering for the past few days was painful,” Kumar told Middle East Eye.
Kumar was a daily-wage worker at a bathware manufacturing unit for 15 years, earning less than $7 per day. His other 40 co-workers have left the city, too, as the company has been forced to shut down operations due to the fuel shortage.
When Iran decided to close the Strait of Hormuz - the strategic waterway through which around 20 percent of the world’s crude oil is transported - the impact was immediate in India.
India depends on Middle Eastern countries for its energy needs. It imports around 60 percent of its LPG from Qatar, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) and Saudi Arabia, with 90 percent arriving through the Strait of Hormuz.
The country is the second-largest importer of LPG in the world.
Within days of the US-Israeli war on Iran, small and large businesses in India cut back on their operations as fuel supplies started to drop. As the war intensified, these businesses, such as textile and ceramic factories, food-processing industries, and even small eateries and restaurants, had no choice but to shut down completely.
The energy crisis, the worst LPG supply crunch in a decade, soon hit millions of migrant labourers working in different industries across India’s major cities, like Delhi, Mumbai, Gujarat, and others. These workers travel thousands of miles from villages and small towns for work where the job opportunities are scant, and earnings are meagre.
Greater intervention needed
Soon after the war kicked off, the Indian government invoked emergency powers and directed oil refiners to maximise LPG production to prevent a shortage of cooking fuel. But those measures may not be enough to stem the cost-of-living crisis.
Whenever a crisis hits India, migrant labour is the most susceptible to any blowback. In 2020, when India announced a lockdown to combat the Covid-19 pandemic, migrant labourers were the worst affected.
According to IndiaMigrationNow, a migration data, research and advocacy agency, India has a huge internal migrant base, made up of around 450 million people, cushioning the country's cheap labour market.
Like Kumar, 22-year-old Chandan, who has been working at a bike spare parts company in Bhiwandi, Rajasthan, managed to refill his five-kilogram gas cylinder a few times until all his savings, which he had set aside for his wedding, vanished.
Distraught with the rising gas prices, he decided to stop cooking at home and eat at roadside eateries. However, Chandan, who earns just $170 a month working 12 hours a day, could not manage the soaring prices at these eateries.
"Before the unforeseen gas crisis, I would buy a plate of rice for 50 rupees (around half a dollar), but all the eateries have tripled the price for the same plate, claiming an equal rise in commercial gas in the grey markets. I earn around 500 rupees a day ($6), and I cannot purchase a kilo of gas for 400 rupees ($4),” Chandan said.
With little relief in sight from the government, Chandan took the tough decision to head back to his home in Balia village, also in Uttar Pradesh.
The Indian government has claimed there is no migration of workers taking place in the country despite the long daily queues of migrant labourers at railway stations across major cities. The ministry dealing with the energy and fuel supplies claims it is providing an uninterrupted LPG supply for domestic use.
However, the junior minister for state petroleum and natural gas, Suresh Gopi, in a parliamentary speech on 12 March, admitted that India has strategic oil reserves for just five days. He also added that LPG reserves will last only about 20 days in the event of unforeseen disruptions.
The Indian government has made it difficult for migrant workers to buy gas outside their registered residences. Under government rules, a household can have only one registered LPG connection. For migrants, those are registered back in their home villages.
In cities and towns, they can buy only five-kilogram cylinders. However, the process is heavily restricted. So instead, they have to go to the black market to get LPG.
On 7 April, the ministry eased these restrictions and doubled the nationwide allocation of five-kilogram LPG cylinders.
Reverse migration, a recurring pattern
Experts say that India's reaction to the living crisis has always been real-time and stimulus-based. The reverse migration sparked by energy shortages and price increases echoes patterns seen during the Covid-19 pandemic.
Experts said that the government has done little to avert the crisis. Sunil Kumar Aledia, a social activist and executive director of the Centre for Holistic Development, believes the government has left migrants to fend for themselves.
“They are facing the burden of the LPG crisis. Although it seems the impact is gradual, the government has not offered any help,” Aledia said.
'They are facing the burden of the LPG crisis. Although it seems the impact is gradual, the government has not offered any help'
- Sunil Kumar Aledia, expert
He warned that due to the government's lenient approach, the crisis could snowball in future.
Professor S Irudaya Rajan, chairman of the International Institute of Migration and Development in Kerala, warns of the impact of reverse migration on the livelihoods of ordinary people.
He compared the impact of the current displacement of migrant workers to Covid-19 and the 2008 global recession, saying repercussions may not be imminent, but the “damage this time would be more intense”.
He added that, combined with domestic reverse migration, expat labourers in the Gulf could also compound the crisis.
“Not only India, but people from several other countries in Southeast Asia earn a significant percentage of remittances from the Gulf nations that outweigh the earnings from domestic labour engagement. As the people start migrating from the war-hit countries, the impact of internal migration would be aggravated by this international reverse migration,” Rajan said.
Dr Adfer Shah, a Delhi-based sociologist and South Asia analyst, sees this migration process as an existential threat to the economically and socially marginalised people in India. He says that for these workers, the reverse migration is the source of suspended existence, disrupted livelihoods, joblessness, depressed village economies, and disturbed childhoods.
“Reverse migration places enormous pressure on village economies and rural livelihoods that are structurally not equipped to reabsorb the returning workforce. Such a shock affects their whole life, even their children's education. It curtails all freedoms and opportunities that urban proximity offers them.”
Leaving empty-handed
At New Delhi Railway Station, the largest in the capital, 21-year-old Sintu Kumar Bhagat is waiting to board the Seemancahal Express train to his village, Purnia, in Bihar.
Bhagat has been out of work for over a month. Like others, he ran out of money to continue living an urban life. He managed to scrounge together train tickets for himself and his brother at inflated prices.
“I got the tickets for double the price with difficulty. Booking has to be done a day or two in advance as everyone is leaving for home,” Bhagat said.
Accompanying Bhagat is Ashok Kumar Chaudary. He, too, is leaving for home, hoping the crisis ends soon and he can return to the capital where he works in the iron manufacturing industry.
"I had travelled 1,000 kms from my village in Jharkhand to Delhi to support my family of five, now going back home empty-handed feels like a curse," says 27-year-old Chaudhary, lifting his backpack onto his shoulder.
Back at the Anand Vihar Railway Station, Kumar is waiting on the pavement outside to board the last train home. His wife was leaning on the sacks containing their belongings and feeding their newborn baby while he was trying to hold on to another child.
“At home, we have firewood to cook and feed ourselves. I will work on farms until the end of the crisis, and I hope the situation here improves soon. We don’t have any option but to return so that we earn better and make a good future for our kids,” he said.
This article was sourced from Middle East Eye.
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