Summary of this article
LPG supply disruptions have increased costs for vendors at Azadpur Mandi.
Rising expenses and falling demand are reducing daily earnings.
Many workers are struggling to sustain basic livelihood amid the crisis.
As the sun goes down, Mitthu Lal (30) is covering his cart with a plastic tarpaulin as he packs his stuff to go back to his rented room. A fruit seller, he comes to the Azadpur Mandi sharp at 6 am to start the day’s work, but today, he says he couldn’t sell even 3 kgs worth of the 10 kg apples that he had bought from a wholesaler.
“We earn only Rs 1,000–1,500 on a good day, and business has already been poor since the crisis began,” says Lal, questioning the affordability after hiked prices of LPG gas cylinders.
The LPG currently costs him around Rs 350 per kg through the unregulated black market, an average cylinder is about 30 kgs. “You can do the maths,” he said.
Sellers at Azadpur Mandi, one of Asia’s largest wholesale fruit and vegetable markets, are barely making their ends meet.
Lal states how high LPG prices have forced the nearby restaurants to shut down, and with no orders from these caterers, the vegetable and fruits sales have collapsed. “The LPG prices are ruining the whole Mandi system and people like us.”
As the US-Israel war on Iran goes into its fourth week, Tehran has blocked the Strait of Hormuz, a waterway between the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman. The strains of the blockade are now finally seeping through the cracks of India’s economy where inflation is still a major issue. The shortage of Liquid Petroleum Gas (LPG) is putting pressure on the labour class whose livelihood is mostly dependent on daily wages.
A bustling, high-volume commercial and agricultural trade hub, the Azadpur Mandi supplies fresh produce to millions of households across India. But for the past three weeks the footfall has decreased with many of the sellers who are mostly migrants, going back to their hometowns due to low sales, leading to disrupted livelihoods.
“I have made only Rs 120 and I have been sitting here since 10 am”, says Gudiya Devi (28), a mother of two.
She tells how families like her have stopped trying to book for LPG cylinders and are now completely dependent on lakkad (wood) for their cooking needs.
“How else will I feed my family?” says an infuriated Gudiya.
The market which once bustled with buyers and sellers haggling prices, is today, almost deserted.
The Mandi smells of rotten and fresh produce mixed together, a sharp, heavy stench that lingers in the air. Buyers walk through with masks or cloth covering their faces, but the sellers, many of them here for decades—barely react. They cough, sneeze, and keep working.
As the summer season has begun, the produce bought by these local sellers is unfortunately rotting at a much faster pace, leading to major loss as local restaurants have shut down and the catering businesses are struggling.
Harinder Singh, a caterer, supplies food for parties and weddings. But currently, there are no orders because everyone is struggling with the LPG shortage.
“If people can’t afford my services, it shows how bad things are, they’re struggling even to cook at home. And fighting won’t solve anything, this war, no one will gain from it”, he says.
Amid these tough times, rumours have begun to play their part, causing panic and distress among these already struggling Mandi sellers.
“Do you know lockdown is about to take place? It will be just like COVID-19 again”, says Ajay (25), a pea seller.
With growing anxiety about a lockdown, the government has tried to allay fears.
Union Minister Hardeep Singh Puri in a recent post on X said, “The global situation remains in flux,” and that the government is “closely monitoring developments across energy, supply chains, and essential commodities on a real-time basis.” He asserts how “all necessary steps are being taken to ensure uninterrupted availability of fuel, energy, and other critical supplies,” and that “we are fully prepared to handle emerging challenges.”
Singh clarified that “rumours of a lockdown in India are completely false”, that there is no such proposal under consideration.
He added that “it is important that we remain calm, responsible, and united,” and warned that “attempts to spread rumours and create panic… are irresponsible and harmful.”
Ajay says he’s been working at the Mandi since he was 10, ever since he arrived from Uttar Pradesh and began working with his uncle. Since then, he had never seen inflation affect basic necessities this severely. He explained that the price of wood has risen from Rs 12 to Rs 25 per kilogram, while coal has increased from Rs 15 to Rs 35. He added that he used to sell three full sacks of peas in a single morning, but now struggles to sell even one in an entire day.
“The small eateries that used to sell a plate of food for 20 rupees have been forced to double their price to 40, making it impossible for poor workers to eat. If I am buying something from the wholesale vendor for Rs 30 per kg, I will sell it for Rs 40 at least, right? How will I make a living then?" asks an anxious Ajay.
Aaftab Alam, a resident of Bihar had migrated to Delhi to support his parents back in the state. Being the only breadwinner for his family he says the current situation not only makes his living expenses a burden but supporting his parents also a difficult task. He lives in a small rented room and pays Rs 4,000 a month.
“I am juggling high rent and the rising cost of everything. I have no expectations from the government because it feels like they are only interested in filling their own stomachs. When the government itself is only looking for its own benefit, a poor man from the village has no one left to turn to," says Aaftab.
Women at the Mandi alleged the Agricultural Produce Market Committee (APMC) is of little help.
A woman vendor at the Mandi who did not want to be named said she had lost her husband last year after a prolonged illness and had still not been able to register for the widow assistance pension. She added that she was now too old to take up other work and, as a thyroid patient, found it even more difficult to manage daily labour.
“I have been selling here for 25 years and have the bills to prove that I buy my goods legally and pay taxes to the government. My name is registered throughout the Mandi, yet the committee officials still come and kick our baskets away, destroying the produce without a thought for the poor,” she claims.
She adds that she had raised her children through this work and refuses to be driven away. “They tell us to run away, but we have spent our entire youth here, where else are we supposed to go?”
Vendors question as to why the government is not taking any action against the people who are selling LPG gas through illegal means. They complain how the gas agency is always closed and they are asked to go away because there’s no supply.
Between the struggles to pay the electricity bill, the water bill, and the rising price of gas, the people at the Mandi are desperate and helpless, especially those who have nowhere to go, complaining that the government should take at least some action.
“The government won't give us money, but at the very least, they should provide us with a gas cylinder to survive. I honestly believe the days of COVID-19 and demonetisation were better than this current misery; everyone is scared, and unlike others, I have no village to run back to because Delhi has always been my home,” says Rekha Devi, a vegetable vendor.
Sushila Devi, a fruit seller, aggressively splashes water onto her cart, trying her best to make sure the produce stays fresh. She complains that even booking a gas cylinder took days to be confirmed, and that customers were often told the delivery would take another 25 days.
“There has been so much trouble from the past few weeks and today I haven't made a single sale since the morning, and if nothing goes into our stomachs, how are we expected to work? I am forced to make food cooked for one day and make it last for three days just to stretch our resources”, says Sushila Devi.
“I can’t cook on wood, I live in a rented room. My landlord will throw me out,” she says.
The night is in full bloom but Azadpur mandi still bustles and will stay alive till 4 am. The footfall is low but the vendors scream the lowest possible prices at the top of their lungs so as to make a sale that might help them buy tonight’s dinner. A woman whilst discussing the sensitivity of the situation, says she will feed only dahi chuda to her children tonight.
