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By:

Quaid Najmi

4 January 2025 at 3:26:24 pm

MGL imposes 20 pc gas cut on bakeries

Soon, Mumbai to starve of vada-pav, pav-bhaji Mumbai: The city of dreams fueled by vada-pav and pav-bhaji could soon face a nightmarish food crunch. Amid the ongoing commercial LPG crisis, Mumbai’s piped natural gas (PNG) supplier Mahanagar Gas Limited (MGL) has imposed a 20pc cut in gas offtake by bakeries, forcing scale down of production of laadi-pav, breads and other bakery staples that feed millions daily, plus an ominous price hike soon. The MGL directive follows a central order (March...

MGL imposes 20 pc gas cut on bakeries

Soon, Mumbai to starve of vada-pav, pav-bhaji Mumbai: The city of dreams fueled by vada-pav and pav-bhaji could soon face a nightmarish food crunch. Amid the ongoing commercial LPG crisis, Mumbai’s piped natural gas (PNG) supplier Mahanagar Gas Limited (MGL) has imposed a 20pc cut in gas offtake by bakeries, forcing scale down of production of laadi-pav, breads and other bakery staples that feed millions daily, plus an ominous price hike soon. The MGL directive follows a central order (March 9), calling upon all bakeries to restrict their gas consumption to only 80 pc of their average usage over the past six months. The new rule came into effect from March 12, immediately sending alarm bells ringing across Mumbai’s panicky bakery network. In a missive to bakery owners, MGL also indicated that PNG prices would be revised shortly due to “gas pooling” arrangements, with the final rates to be announced after consultations with suppliers and the government. It further warned that any bakery exceeding the new consumption cap could face penal tariffs or even abrupt disconnection of gas supply. For hundreds of bakeries already grappling with a crippling shortage of commercial LPG cylinders, the move served to fuel the prevailing uncertainty. “This could virtually paralyse Mumbai’s food chain, hitting the common masses worst,” warned Khodadad Irani, President of the Indian Bakers Association (IBA). “There are nearly 300 registered bakeries in South Mumbai alone and around 1,000 across the city. Together they produce almost half the city’s daily requirement of around 70 lakh laadi-pavs. More than half of these bakeries depend on LPG to fire their ovens. With LGP supplies disrupted and now PNG curtailed, many may be forced to shut down within days,” a glum Irani told ‘The Perfect Voice.’ He explained the staggering implications of the potential disruption round the corner - on average, each bakery churns out around 1,500 trays (laadis) of pav every day, employs 30-50 workers per unit, and outside the flaming ovens, an entire informal economy thrives on the humble pav. Two Lakh Workers Nearly two lakh delivery workers ferry fresh bread across the city each morning on bicycles and motorcycles, supplying to all from roadside stalls to high-end eateries and corporates. Besides, over six lakh vendors run small stalls selling the city’s beloved yummies - vada-pav, samosa-pav, bhajiya-pav, usal-misal-pav, pav-bhaji, dabelis. “Under such a scenario, if bakeries pause or shut down, there will be huge consequences. Not only will common people suffer, but close to a million livelihoods linked to this ecosystem could be hit,” Irani pointed out. He reminded the authorities how bakeries remained operational during the COVID-19 pandemic, ensuring a steady supply of bread and pav when Mumbai reeled under lockdown. “We kept our ovens running then despite enormous risks, to ensure Mumbai would not go hungry. But now we are facing a dire fuel shortage, and until commercial LPG quotas are normalized, we simply cannot continue operations,” Irani said grimly. With desperation creeping in both among the bakers and their customers, some bakeries have begun buying LPG cylinders on the black market at three to four times the official price, and others are allegedly diverting domestic cylinders to power their industrial ovens. Ironically, the sector had only recently initiated a painful transition to cleaner fuels - following court-mandated environmental directives in 2025 - by scrapping their traditional coal or wood-fired ovens to invest in PNG-LPG-based systems, or electric powered ovens. “Most of us complied with the shift to eco-friendly fuels. But now those very fuels are scarce. If the situation is not resolved quickly, Mumbai could soon wake up to a shocking reality - a city without pav,” Irani predicted. Neighbourhood bakers fret Local bakers say the crisis threatens not only the supply of laadi-pav but a wide range of popular bakery products that have a ready market. They include: sweet bun-pav, tutti-frutti pav, kharis, rusks, crunchy bruns, toasts, puffs, pastries, brownies, cupcakes, nankhatais, cookies, mini-pizzas, unbranded biscuits, et al. “Mumbai is a crowded city. It cannot survive without bakeries running 24x7. Many people eat only one proper meal at home and rely on street foods and snacks outside. Everything depends on steady fuel supply. If bakeries stop, the entire food chain - from corporate canteens to school kitchens and mass caterers - will be doomed,” fumed a contract baker Mohsin Alvi.

Studio Siege

A supposed film audition in Powai turned into a two-hour nightmare when 17 children were taken hostage by a man armed with an air gun and delusions of martyrdom. For the shocked citizens of Mumbai, it was a veritable real-life replay of ‘Dog Day Afternoon’ and other Hollywood films involving hostage situations and deranged men.


The unpleasant episode exposed not just the despair of the hostage taker, a certain Rohit Arya, but also society’s own blind spots, namely parental recklessness, bureaucratic neglect and the perils lurking behind everyday ambition.


By the time police bullets ended Arya’s rampage, the city had witnessed a chilling siege unfolding inside a cramped studio which exposed not only a desperate man’s meltdown but society’s own complacency as well.


In a rambling video recorded before the siege, the hostage taker had demanded no ransom, merely “ethical and moral” conversations. He ranted about unpaid dues from a state-run sanitation project, accusing bureaucrats of betrayal. His grievances, if any, had apparently festered into delusion. When police stormed the studio, Arya fired with his air gun and they returned a single real bullet, ending the standoff and his life.


It must be acknowledged that the police did their job with swiftness and restraint. Officers from Powai station arrived within minutes of the distress call, negotiated briefly and broke in before panic turned fatal. All 17 children, aged between eight and fourteen, were rescued unharmed.


Parents, understandably horrified now, must also confront their own lapse in judgment. How many paused to verify the legitimacy of RA Studios before sending their children off to an ‘audition’? Mumbai’s entertainment underbelly is rife with fraudsters, hustlers and unlicensed operators who promise stardom.


The case sheds a revealing light on the unregulated chaos of India’s amateur entertainment industry. Anyone with a rented space, a cheap camera and a social media handle can call themselves a producer. With no formal vetting or oversight, children are regularly drawn into auditions and shoots run by dubious individuals. The Powai siege has exposed how safety, in this setting, depends less on the law and more on luck.


There is also a cruel irony in this episode. That a man once engaged in educating children about hygiene ended up holding them hostage. It is a tale of delusion and a reminder that obsession, when fed by vanity and entitlement, can curdle into menace. Arya’s descent from civic activism to psychosis mirrors a society where grievance often finds no outlet until it explodes in spectacle.


The Powai hostage crisis will fade from headlines soon, reduced to another morbid curiosity in Mumbai’s endless ledger of crimes. But it should remain a warning. The line between desperation and danger is often crossed not by accident but by indulgence, whether by parents who outsource vigilance or by officials who ignore the unravelling of individuals. Rohit Arya’s story ended in death; the lesson it leaves behind should not die with him.

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