Day lost to fuel queues, earnings hit

By late afternoon, the sun hung heavy over Shahbagh area, and the line outside the Meghna Petrol Pump had barely moved.

For Abid Islam, a ride-sharing motorcyclist, time had already slipped away.

He had joined the queue at 2:00pm. By 5:00pm, he was still outside the station gates.

“I don’t complain about the price increase,” Abid said, straddling his bike, eyes fixed ahead.

“But how long will we have to stand like this? If I don’t get fuel, I don’t earn. And if I don’t earn, I can’t run my family.”

He had eaten a simple lunch of bread and bananas hours earlier. Since then, he had not dared leave his place in line. “If I go to eat, I’ll lose my spot. I’ll eat after I get fuel,” he said.

Across Dhaka, scenes like this have become routine. Long queues snake out of filling stations, stretching into main roads and choking traffic.

Despite government assurances that there is no supply shortage, a mix of global instability and public anxiety has driven demand sharply upward.

The recent volatility in global fuel markets, triggered by conflict in the Middle East, has spilled into daily life in Bangladesh. Since late February, motorists have been lining up for hours, fearing scarcity.

The government raised fuel prices on April 19, hoping the move would ease panic buying. But the lines remain.

A similar scene unfolded in Tejgaon outside the Trust Filling Station, where the queue stretched nearly a kilometre, reaching the area opposite BAF Shaheen School.

By the afternoon, hundreds of vehicles were still waiting: more than 500 private cars, nearly 700 motorcycles, along with ambulances and delivery vans.
For many, the cost of waiting is greater than the cost of fuel.

Nayan, another motorcyclist in the queue, echoed Abid’s frustration. “The price is not the issue,” he said. “But if we spend hours here, when do we work?”

Ifthekhar Mahmud, a businessman who had driven from Banasree, had been waiting since midday.

“Still haven’t got fuel,” he said, glancing at the slow-moving line. Nearby, Mokhlesur Rahman, a driver for a private company, shared the same experience. “Same story,” he said. “We just wait.”

Not all stations were equally crowded. At Nikunja Model Service Centre, the lines were shorter, though still persistent.

Around early afternoon, dozens of cars and over a hundred motorcycles waited their turn.

Rakib Hasnat, a ride-hailing driver from Khilkhet, stood beside his bike, calculating the hours lost.

“I last bought fuel for 500 taka on Saturday. It’s finished now,” he said. “If I don’t get fuel, I can’t ride.

So I have to stand here during working hours.”

For Suman, a sanitary worker who travels across Dhaka for jobs, the wait is part of the workday now.

He had been in line for 40 minutes. “I bought fuel four days ago. It’s almost finished,” he said. “I’ll probably get 500 taka worth again—unless I have a fuel pass.”

Inside the stations, staff insists there is no rationing. “We are giving as much as customers ask for,” said a sales assistant at Nikunja.

The manager, Sohel Rana, added that sales begin at 9:00am and continue until stocks run out.
Yet outside, uncertainty persists.

For workers like Abid, the crisis is not just about fuel — it is about time, income, and survival measured in hours spent waiting.