When fuel runs dry

On a Saturday night in Jhenaidah, 25-year-old Nirab Ahmed rode his motorcycle to a petrol pump on the Dhaka–Jhenaidah highway. While trying to buy fuel under the rationing due to the ongoing fuel crisis, an argument broke out. Pump workers had refused to give him the amount of fuel he requested. 

Voices rose. Then the confrontation turned violent. Nirab was beaten. By the time he was rushed to the 250-bed Jhenaidah General Hospital, doctors say, he had already suffered severe injuries. He was declared dead shortly after 9pm. 

In another corner of the country, authorities in Natore uncovered a different face of the same panic. Acting on a tip-off, a mobile court raided a bamboo grove in Singra upazila. Hidden beneath the soil was a water tank filled with 10,000 litres of diesel. The fuel had been secretly stockpiled underground. 

A classic Bangladeshi example of hoarding. 

The trader responsible was fined Tk5,000, and the recovered diesel was ordered to be sold in the open market at the official price.

Between the violence at a petrol pump and diesel buried beneath a bamboo grove lies the story of a country gripped by uncertainty over energy supply. The sudden rush for fuel triggered by fears of global supply disruption after the US and Israeli attacks on Iran has gripped the country as panic buying has been running amok, and the economy is slowly coming down to a grind. 

And nowhere is that uncertainty more visible than in the long queues outside filling stations across Dhaka.

On Saturday afternoon, outside the Ramna petrol pump, a line of motorcycles stretched along the roadside. Office worker Limon Hasan had already been waiting for about 20 minutes.

"They have set a limit of two litres per person," he said. "My office starts again tomorrow, and I am worried about commuting. If they allowed at least five litres it would help."

Around him, riders checked their fuel gauges repeatedly, calculating how far they could travel.

The government has imposed limits on fuel sales as panic buying surged across the country in recent days. At many stations in Dhaka, motorcycles are allowed a maximum of two litres and private cars up to 10 litres.

But even these limits have not reduced the pressure.

At the Meghna Model Service Centre near Shahbagh, the queue of motorcycles stretched towards the intersection near the InterContinental hotel. At some stations, drivers reported waiting more than an hour.

For many riders, the fear is not simply inconvenience but survival.

Abir Hasan, a ride-sharing motorcyclist who has been driving for five years, earns his living through app-based rides across the capital. His two-wheeled vehicle supports a family of three, including a son preparing for his SSC examination.

On a normal day, he spends Tk200 to Tk300 on fuel and works long hours in the city's traffic.

But under the current restrictions, he can barely complete a handful of trips.

"If I get two litres of petrol, it will only last for three or four rides," he said while waiting in a queue at a filling station in Kuril. "Then I have to stand in line again."

After expenses, he said he usually takes home around Tk12,000 to Tk14,000 a month.

"Even in normal times that is barely enough. Now the situation is worse," he said.

The crisis could have wider implications for Bangladesh's informal economy. Analysts estimate that nearly 1.2 million motorcycles are registered on ride-sharing platforms in the capital alone, while millions more depend indirectly on the sector.

A disruption in fuel supply — or even fear of disruption — threatens the livelihoods of a large section of urban workers.

Across Dhaka, scenes of frustration are becoming common.

At a filling station in Paribagh, a signboard reading "No octane, no petrol" hung at the entrance. Motorcycles kept arriving, only to turn away. Some riders argued with pump workers. Others simply left in silence.

A pump operator said the station had run out of petrol and octane after selling fuel until 4am the previous night.

"Bikers are panicking and buying more fuel than they need," he said.

At the Kalyanpur bus stand, bus driver Mohammad Sohel said they were receiving barely one-third of their usual fuel allocation. Trips have been cut. Long queues at pumps are eating into working hours.

"If the owners lose money, we lose money," he said.

The same story is unfolding in truck stands, bus terminals and ride-sharing hubs across the capital. At Dholaikhal truck stand, driver Md Ashraf said he had stopped taking long-distance trips altogether.

"For the last two days I have only been driving short distances," he said. "Income is falling."

At the Sayedabad bus terminal, Golden Line bus manager Ismail Mia said vehicle movement had dropped significantly in the morning due to fuel shortages. By afternoon, the crowd had grown as drivers scrambled to secure fuel before pumps closed again.

"We cannot store fuel in advance," he said. "And pumps are shutting down frequently."

Managers at other transport companies echoed the same concern.

"If we need 140 litres, we are getting only 70 or 80," said Akhtar Hossain of Shyamoli NR Paribahan.

Despite the chaos on the ground, officials insist that Bangladesh has sufficient fuel supplies.

The government says additional diesel imports have already been arranged following the outbreak of war in the Middle East. Bangladesh Petroleum Corporation has finalised the import of 280,000 tonnes of diesel, part of which has already begun arriving in the country. Another 100,000 tonnes are in the import pipeline. 

Officials say Bangladesh's monthly diesel demand stands at roughly 380,000 tonnes, while more than 100,000 tonnes are currently in storage. Some shipments are already at sea.

"There is no reason for Bangladesh to face a diesel shortage in March," said a senior official in the energy division.

Authorities also say petrol and octane are produced domestically from condensate and therefore should not face supply disruptions.

The real problem, they argue, is panic buying. On a typical day, Bangladesh sells around 12,000 to 13,000 tonnes of diesel. 

But in recent days, daily sales have surged to more than 20,000 tonnes. Much of that demand appears to come from stockpiling. Officials have warned that unnecessary purchases could create the very shortage people fear.

Yet beneath the official assurances lies a structural weakness in Bangladesh's energy security. Experts say the country maintains relatively low strategic fuel reserves compared to many of its regional peers. Bangladesh currently has storage capacity for roughly 30 to 35 days of fuel consumption.

But within that figure, diesel reserves — the most widely used fuel in transport and agriculture — may last barely 10 to 11 days. Neighbouring India maintains about 74 days of oil reserves, while Vietnam holds around 45 days and Thailand more than 60. Japan, one of the world's most energy-dependent countries, maintains reserves sufficient for nearly 250 days.

The lack of storage capacity has long been a concern among energy experts.

In 2020, the government decided to increase oil storage capacity to cover at least 60 days of consumption. But the plan has moved slowly. Several projects, including large storage tanks under the single point mooring project at Chattogram, remain underutilised.

Meanwhile, state-owned distribution companies have been criticised for prioritising financial returns over infrastructure investment.

Back on the streets of Dhaka, however, such policy debates feel distant.

Drivers are thinking about the next trip, the next refill, the next day's income.

Outside a filling station in Khilkhet, a yellow banner reading "No fuel – pump closed" fluttered in the afternoon wind. Hundreds of vehicles were still waiting in line. Some drivers had not yet realised the pump had shut down. The queue stretched nearly to the entrance of the Nikunja residential area.

Among the vehicles was a microbus bearing a sticker identifying it as belonging to a member of parliament. Even that car eventually left without fuel. It painted an ironic sense of equality. 

For many in the queue, the crisis comes at the worst possible time. Eid is approaching.

Traditionally, the weeks before the festival are among the busiest for transport workers, ride-sharing drivers and delivery riders. 

Instead, many are spending hours standing in queues. Some have begun to fear that if the situation continues, the coming festival season could bring financial hardship rather than celebration.

The global conflict that triggered the anxiety is thousands of kilometres away.

But in the narrow streets of Dhaka, where motorcycles idle in endless lines and drivers watch fuel gauges nervously, its effects feel very close.