For twenty years, the blue flames of the tandoors at Rajat Kapoor’s neighborhood bistro in South Delhi, India never flickered. Today, they are dying out. As the military conflict in Iran disrupts critical energy shipping lanes through the Strait of Hormuz, the crisis has moved beyond the domestic kitchen into the heart of India’s vibrant hospitality sector.
The ripple effect of the escalating regional war is now threatening the survival of thousands of restaurants across the subcontinent. While Indian households have already been grappling with soaring Liquified Petroleum Gas (LPG) bills, the commercial sector which relies on high-volume gas consumption is hitting a breaking point. Unlike residential users who receive limited government subsidies, restaurant owners operate on razor-thin margins and market-rate fuel prices that have nearly doubled in a fortnight.
“We are not just talking about expensive gas; we are talking about the total absence of it,” Kapoor said, surveying a dining room that should be full for the lunch rush. “Without a steady supply of commercial cylinders, we cannot maintain our tandoors or high-pressure burners. If the shipments don’t arrive by next week, I will have to send forty employees home.”
The National Restaurant Association of India (NRAI) warned in a Tuesday statement that up to 30% of small and medium-sized eateries could face permanent closure if the supply chain remains paralyzed.
READ: How a distant war is raising India’s cooking gas bills (
The scarcity has triggered a desperate scramble for alternative fuels, with some rural establishments reverting to coal or wood a move that threatens to reverse years of environmental progress and food safety standards.
In major urban hubs like Mumbai and Bengaluru, the crisis is manifesting in “fuel surcharges” on menus and a drastic reduction in energy-intensive dishes. Slow-cooked delicacies, once staples of Indian cuisine, are being replaced by quicker, cold-prep options as chefs attempt to conserve their remaining gas reserves.
The geopolitical standoff comes at a precarious time for India, which imports more than half of its LPG requirements, with a significant portion traditionally sourced from or through Middle Eastern routes. With tankers diverted or stalled, the Indian government is searching for alternative suppliers in West Africa and North America, but logistics experts say these shipments will take weeks to arrive.
For the millions of Indians who rely on street food vendors and local “dhaba” eateries for affordable daily meals, the shortage is more than a business hurdle; it is a threat to food security. As the “Hormuz bottleneck” continues, the aroma of spices in Indian streets is being replaced by the quiet of cold stoves, signaling a deepening economic casualty of a distant war.