Mumbai: The ongoing conflict in West Asia has equally put world leaders and ordinary citizens in a difficult position, with the latter struggling to afford basic necessities. A month-and-a-half into the conflict, serpentine queues remain a daily fixture outside liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) agencies as citizens struggle to get cooking gas.
Rising cost of LPG cylinders and daily commodities have had a staggering effect on the lives of gig workers, those running small eateries, the self-employed and truck drivers. Some have changed their lifestyles, while others have refashioned their dietary needs.
HT visited a cross-section of daily wage workers to find out how they are getting by with limited incomes and expanding expenses – for example, while the price of vada pav and a small cup of tea have not risen, the ingredients that go into their making have become costlier, hurting the pockets of the vendors.
It’s a far cry from restaurants that recently increased food prices by 15% to 20%.
“There is a cyclical pressure being created of no-work-no food-no-certainty. While the impact on migrant workers was not visible earlier, it has now begun to affect them severely. They are finding it difficult even to cook and are unable to access food. Commercial LPG, which was keeping them afloat, has effectively been diverted to bigger hotels. This has already affected a large section of workers across the city. It is difficult to predict what lies ahead,” said professor BV Bhosale, sociologist and in-charge director of School of International Relations and Strategic Studies, University of Mumbai.
‘I have to return to my village, start farming’
Name: Ajay Rai, 42
Occupation: Truck driver
For 42-year-old Ajay Rai, a truck driver from Uttar Pradesh, the road that once promised stability has now led to uncertainty and despair, thanks to the downturn triggered by the West Asia crisis.
After spending over two decades behind the wheel, he is preparing to return home, defeated by dwindling work and mounting expenses.
Rai has been driving trucks since 2000. At 18, he migrated from his village in Kushinagar, to escape intermittent earnings and the lingering insecurity born out of failing his high school exams. Drawn by the promise of steady employment in the trucking business, he first arrived in Daman and later Mumbai.
“I had barely grown a moustache when I began driving,” Rai recalled while speaking to HT on the Nashik highway.
Rai has lived inside the truck, assigned by Parth Cargo, for the past two years. The company transports bulk consignments from Nhava Sheva to Vadpe and Bhiwandi. Now, with reduced cargo movement drivers are left with little work. “Managers tell us that business is low,” said Rai.
Paid per-trip, he earns around ₹2,500 for each journey. “Until recently, I completed five to six trips a week, earning nearly ₹50,000 a month. Now, assignments have dwindled to just one weekly trip, bringing my monthly income down to about ₹10,000,” he said.
With the dip in income, Rai who used to eat vegetarian thalis, now survives on vada pav and bhaji pav.
The financial toll has impacted his family too, which include monthly fees of around ₹13,000 for his daughter’s college and son’s school. “I used to send around ₹35,000 every month. But I haven’t sent home any money last month, neither will I be able to this month,” said Rai.
On the other hand, life on the highways is not devoid of risks either. Last week, eight litres of diesel were siphoned from his truck while he was asleep, forcing him to bear the loss.
After years of relentless toil, Rai has decided to pause. “I will deliver my last consignment tomorrow and head home. Living here has become unbearable. I will return to my village and work on my agricultural land, which will keep me afloat and ensure two meals for my family,” he said, adding that he still holds a small glimmer of hope that he may return to the driver’s seat in the near future.
‘I cannot afford to buy water despite the harsh summer’
Ganesh Chaugle, 26
Gig worker/Food delivery app worker
At 4am, when most of the city is asleep, 26-year-old Ganesh Chaugle rides home through the dimly lit streets of Thane to Kalva, exhausted. For the past month, the gig worker has been working nearly 14 hours a day, beginning his shift at noon and continuing until the early hours of the morning. “There is hardly any time to rest,” Chaugle told HT while delivering an order near Jambli Naka in Thane.
The downturn triggered by the LPG crisis has reduced the pace of deliveries, cutting into his earnings by half. “Earlier, we used to deliver one order every 10 minutes. Now it takes 20 minutes as many places have shifted to electric induction,” he said.
The impact on his income has been severe. Until recently, Chaugle earned between ₹40,000 and ₹45,000 a month. Today, that figure has fallen to around ₹30,000, of which 15–20% is spent on petrol, maintenance, and other work-related expenses. “My income forms the backbone of my house,” he said.
Chaugle’s mother works as a domestic help and earns around ₹15,000 a month, while the family grapples with rent, monthly bills, and pending EMIs. His sister, a Class X student, required a mobile phone for her studies, adding to their financial burden.
“The worst part is that my mother thinks I am not responsible towards the house. How do I explain that my pocket has developed a hole because of a war thousands of miles away?” said the final year commerce student at Patel College in Kalyan.
To save money, he often skips dinner and survives on inexpensive street food such as samosa, sev, and bhel.
The harsh realities of gig work have only intensified his distress. “Between 12pm and 3 pm, we cannot take a break. Yesterday, when I stopped briefly to use the loo, my incentive of ₹332 for completing 27 deliveries was waived off. It means for petrol , I will have to pay from my pocket,” said Chaugle.
Adding, “Also, water consumption has increased due to the heat. If I buy two bottles costing ₹20 each, the amount earned from one delivery is gone. I have started calculating everything this way.”
‘My daily sales have been impacted since I hiked prices’
Name: Umesh Gowda, 38
Occupation: Food vendor, Andheri East
Umesh Gowda, 38, is one of the many faces in the crowd of street food vendors who service Mumbai’s working population through breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner. Gowda makes a living by selling omelette, bhurji and boiled eggs in Andheri east.
Originally from Bengaluru, he moved to Mumbai over a decade ago to make it big in the country’s financial capital. But his aspirations were dashed after his partnership in a restaurant ran aground within three months, due to the pandemic.
He started the anda-bhurji stall along the Andheri-Kurla Road, a hub of corporate houses. All was going well, until the West Asia conflict’s domino effect hit the country’s economic condition.
“Prices of all the ingredients and other materials required for my daily business have risen in the last couple of months. LPG has become dearer, the cost of vegetables and eggs has shot up. My margins are getting squeezed,” said Gowda. “
“For example, a pouch of 900 ml cooking oil priced between ₹115 and ₹118 is now available for ₹146 – ₹150. Cost of packaging materials such as spoons, plates, carry bags, butter paper, etc too has risen by 80%. All of this has put pressure on my daily income,” he said. He requires 10 LPG cylinders, priced around ₹1000, a month, but has been forced to cut the usage due to unavailability. He has kept a diesel stove as a back-up.
In order to remain afloat, Gowda has had to increase the price of his food on offer by 25%. Until a month back, an omelette-pav sold for ₹20, now it’s ₹25.
This in turn has impacted his daily sales as well. “My sales have dipped substantially. Earlier, I used to sell about 600 eggs daily, now it’s anywhere between 400-450 eggs,” he said.
He operates the stall for five-and-a-half days a week. In the second half of Saturday, he re-stocks for his business. While Sundays are for family, with rising costs and shrinking profits, he steps out less with his wife and six-year-old daughter.
Despite the odds, he has now put his focus on his child’s future. “I want to plan for her, to cushion her future,” said Gowda. “Life hasn’t panned out as I thought. But I’m in a far better situation than several others.”
‘As I can’t raise tea prices, so I am eating only daal and rice’
Name: Jayesh Paradhi, 25
Occupation: Tea vendor
Twenty-five-year-old Jayesh Paradhi’s tea stall at Pratiksha Nagar, popular among taxi and auto drivers, is struggling to stay afloat. It’s a shop he inherited from his father for who ran it for 40 years.
Paradhi requires three commercial LPG cylinders in a month, each priced at ₹2000.
“I sell at least 150 cups of tea every day, but the increase in the prices of raw materials such as tea powder, sugar and ginger have impacted my profits, as I have not increased the price of tea yet. I use both an LPG stove and a diesel stove,” he said. “As my earnings have been affected, I have cut down my expenses. I now cook a one-course dinner of like dal and rice, or sometimes roti.”
A small cup of tea at his stall costs ₹5 and a cutting chai ₹10. “I recently lost my home which has gone into redevelopment, and therefore rent a space opposite my stall at ₹50 per night to sleep. This helps me save on house rent, and I am able to send 60% of my monthly income, which is approximately ₹16,000 to ₹18,000, to my wife and two children who live in Rajasthan,” he said.
When asked why he has not increased the price of tea, he said, “If I do so, I will lose all my customers. I will hike the price of tea when other vendors do so,” he said.
‘We cook what we can’t sell’
Sugandha Thakur 65
Occupation: Vegetable vendor
At 65, Sugandha Thakur continues to run her small vegetable stall at Jambhli Naka in Thane, relying on the daily sale of leafy greens to sustain her family of four.
“I am selling leafy vegetables for my survival. Earlier, I used to cook a variety of dishes, but now we depend on unsold vegetables because both produce and LPG have become expensive,” she says.
Despite a slight dip in income, Thakur says her family of four manages by cutting costs and supporting each other. Living in their own home in Kasar Vadavli helps them stay afloat.
“We plan our spending based on our income and try to stay happy,” she adds.