When the cylinder runs low

 When the Cylinder Runs Low

The other day, I saw something that stayed with me longer than I expected.

People were lined up, waiting for LPG cylinders. There was a certain restlessness in the air—not loud, not chaotic, but anxious enough to be felt. Later, my maid hesitantly asked me if we had an extra cylinder at home. There was worry in her voice. A kind of quiet panic.

And for a moment, it all felt very real. Very immediate.

A shortage.

But as the moment passed, another thought stayed back.

Is it really just a shortage? Or is it trying to tell us something more?

There’s something quietly unsettling about the times we live in.

We already know what works. We’ve seen homes run on rooftop solar, kitchen waste turn into compost instead of rotting in landfills, and simple practices like rainwater harvesting or balcony gardening make a real difference. None of this is new. None of this is beyond us.

And yet, most of it remains where it feels comfortable—  

in conversations, in intentions, in that familiar thought: “I’ll start someday.”

I know this space well. Because I’m standing there too.

I haven’t done anything significant yet.  

But I want to begin.

And maybe that is not a weak place to be. Maybe that is exactly where change begins—not with perfection, but with a quiet willingness.

Moments like these, however small they may seem, have a way of shaking us out of our routine.

When something as basic as cooking gas begins to feel uncertain, it does more than inconvenience us. It unsettles a rhythm we take for granted. The kitchen—so central, so constant—pauses. And in that pause, a question quietly rises:

Have we become too dependent on systems we cannot control?

We’ve seen this before.

When COVID arrived, it forced us to slow down, to re-evaluate, to rediscover simpler ways of living. We learned to manage with less, to value what we had, to adapt. For a moment, we believed those lessons would stay.

But as normalcy returned, so did our old patterns.

And now, in a very different form, comes another nudge.

A shortage is never just a shortage.  

Sometimes, it is a signal.

A signal that reminds us of alternatives we have ignored.  

A signal that nudges us towards systems that are more within our control.

Because the truth is—we do have options.

Biogas, for instance, is not an idea of the future. It is already a working solution. Kitchen waste, which we throw away every day, has the potential to become fuel. Imagine if societies, apartments, or even local communities adopted this on a larger scale. It would not just reduce waste, but also reduce our dependence on cylinders that suddenly feel so uncertain.

Solar energy is no longer distant or expensive in the way it once was. Water can be conserved, recycled, and reused more mindfully. Waste can be managed better at the source itself.

These are not grand, unreachable solutions. They are practical. They are possible.

Perhaps what is missing is not awareness—but priority.

It makes one wonder why such ideas are not pushed more strongly, more visibly, more urgently at a larger level. Why they don’t form the core of what we collectively move towards.

But maybe the shift does not begin only at that level.

Maybe it begins quietly, within homes like ours.

It does not require big changes. It begins with small shifts.

Separating waste in the kitchen.  

Trying composting, even imperfectly.  

Saving water in ways we usually ignore.  

Growing something small, even if it is just a few leaves.  

Refusing plastic when we can.

None of these feel like big acts. But perhaps that is their strength.

They are doable. They are personal. They are within reach.

And something changes when we begin.

The home feels a little more aware. The waste feels a little less careless. There is a quiet satisfaction in knowing that we are no longer just depending—we are participating.

More importantly, these are not just environmental choices. They are deeply connected to our well-being.

Cleaner surroundings, better air, safer water—these are the first steps of good health. Long before hospitals and medicines, it is our everyday environment that shapes how we live and how we feel.

I haven’t done much yet either.  

But I find myself thinking differently now.

Not just about the shortage—but about what it is quietly pointing towards.

Because maybe this isn’t just about an LPG shortage.  

Maybe it is a wake-up call.

And maybe, just maybe—  

this time, we choose to listen.

We are not short of solutions.  

We are only short of that first small step.