- 'If I can’t have a full tank today, I will lose my livelihood for the week,' a driver tells Anadolu
DHAKA, Bangladesh
The long queue begins well before sunrise.
Motorcycles stand in a tight row, engines off, their riders slumped forward in quiet frustration. A faint smell of petrol lingers in the Dhaka air, mixing with dust and impatience.
By 8 am, the queue outside a fuel station on Mirpur Road stretches around the block, snaking past tea stalls and shuttered shops. Some have been waiting for more than an hour. Others say they came yesterday and left empty-handed.
“I’ve been here since early morning,” Parvez Ashraf, a small businessman of plastic products, told Anadolu, wiping sweat from his forehead. “After all this time, I got fuel worth only Tk 300 ($2.45). That barely lasts a day or two.”
Across Dhaka, similar scenes are unfolding. From Mohammadpur to Jatrabari, gas stations are rationing supply, forcing commuters, delivery riders, and transport workers into long, uncertain waits.
Many stations are limiting sales to small amounts per vehicle, citing irregular deliveries caused by the US–Israel war with Iran and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, which has disrupted energy supplies to parts of Asia, including Bangladesh.
The shortage is particularly critical because Bangladesh relies on the Gulf for a large portion of its fuel, importing roughly 63% of its energy from countries such as Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Iraq.
Operators say they are struggling to meet demand, even as official assurances claim otherwise.
The mismatch between government statements and street-level reality has sharpened public anger. Authorities have repeatedly said there is sufficient fuel stock in the country, enough to last weeks.
But on the ground, drivers describe a different picture—one of scarcity and anxiety.
“I need fuel every day for my job,” Rafiqul Alam, a salesman, told Anadolu while standing beside his motorbike in a queue that had barely moved in 30 minutes. “If I don’t get enough today, I’ll have to take leave again tomorrow just to stand here. This is not sustainable.”
Transport workers appear to be among the hardest hit. CNG-run vehicles and buses have seen increased pressure as fuel shortages ripple across the system. Ride-sharing drivers say they are completing fewer trips.
Sultan Ahmed, a driver with the ridesharing service Pathao, told Anadolu that riders like him “cannot sustain themselves with this fuel shortage.” He said: “If I can’t have a full tank today, I will lose my livelihood for the week."
Fuel pump owners, meanwhile, describe a system under stress. Industry insiders cited in local media reports say supply disruptions and logistical bottlenecks have forced them to ration fuel.
Some pumps reportedly run dry before the day ends, leaving latecomers stranded.
Md Nazmul Haque, the owner of Ramna Petrol Pump and president of the Bangladesh Petrol Pump Owners Association, told Anadolu that they are not receiving oil supplies according to the required and expected demand.
“It creates a persistent panic-buying situation,” he said.
In response to the growing crisis, the government has moved to increase imports.
Officials recently approved the purchase of around 300,000 tons of diesel to meet urgent energy demand. The decision signals recognition of a tightening supply situation, even as public messaging continues to emphasize adequate reserves.
But increased imports come at a cost.
Energy experts warn that Bangladesh’s fuel import bill is set to rise significantly in the coming months, driven by global price pressures and domestic demand.
“This increase could eventually be passed on to consumers, either directly through higher fuel prices or indirectly through inflation in transport and goods,” energy expert Badrul Imam told Anadolu.
For ordinary people already grappling with long lines and limited supply, the prospect of higher costs adds another layer of concern.
Back at the Mirpur pump, the line inches forward.
A rider checks his watch. Another calls his office to say he will be late…again. A third simply sits in silence, staring at the fuel dispenser as if willing it to move faster.
“They say there’s enough fuel,” one man mutters to no one in particular. “If that’s true, why are we all standing here?”
No one answers. The queue moves a few feet ahead. And the waiting continues.
