An LPG Deadline And An Aadhaar Risk!
By Gajanan Khergamker
In Colaba, the warning did not arrive through a government notice or a dealer circular. It arrived, instead, through WhatsApp. Short messages and forwarded voice notes began circulating among residents’ groups and building chats, cautioning LPG consumers that biometric verification would soon become compulsory. Some forwards spoke of gas connections being “blocked” after January 31, 2026. Others urged people to rush to their dealers before a “final deadline” expired. None cited an official order. None carried a ministry seal. Yet the repetition was enough to create urgency. In a neighbourhood where information often travels faster through phones than through files, hearsay acquired the tone of policy.
This informal messaging has since found reinforcement at the counter. What begins as a forwarded warning ends as a spoken instruction. Consumers arriving to book routine refills are told—quietly, urgently—that biometrics are now necessary, that Aadhaar must be authenticated, that delays could invite trouble after January. The biometric scanner appears before the question is asked. The deadline, now familiar from WhatsApp, is repeated as fact. January 31, 2026 is invoked not as a possibility but as a cliff edge. Still, no circular is pinned to the noticeboard. No order number is produced. No Gazette notification is cited. The authority of the date rests entirely on circulation—digital first, oral next.
Across LPG dealerships in cities and small towns alike, a date has begun doing the work of law. January 31, 2026 is presented as a cut-off, a moment after which Aadhaar and biometrics are said to become unavoidable. What is rarely explained is that this deadline, loudly enforced at the counter, has never been written into law.
The biometric scanner appears on the counter before the question is asked. The consumer has come to book a refill, nothing more. Instead, there is a pause, a lowered voice, a warning. “There is a government deadline. January 2026. After that, there could be problems.”
There is no circular pinned to the noticeboard. No order number. No Gazette reference. Just urgency, repeated often enough to sound like law.
Across LPG dealerships in cities and small towns alike, a date has begun doing the work of authority. January 31, 2026 is invoked as a cut-off, a cliff edge, a moment after which Aadhaar and biometrics are said to become unavoidable. What is rarely explained is that this deadline, loudly enforced at the counter, has never been written into law.
January 31, 2026 did not emerge from Parliament, nor from any statutory rule notified in the Gazette of India. Its roots lie instead in the administrative mechanics of the Direct Benefit Transfer system and the Standard Operating Procedures governing the Pradhan Mantri Ujjwala Yojana.
Over the past decade, DBT-linked schemes have accumulated layers of data. Duplicate connections, dormant LPG IDs, mismatched bank details, and subsidy credits bouncing back into government accounts have all triggered periodic clean-up drives. Oil marketing companies have been instructed to reconcile records, seed missing identifiers, and verify beneficiary lists.
The 2026 date functions as an outer boundary for this exercise. It gives administrators time to audit databases, correct errors, and stabilise subsidy pipelines. Its object is internal hygiene. It was designed to fix records, not to discipline citizens.
At no point was the date conceived as a universal deadline applicable to every LPG consumer. It was meant to tidy spreadsheets, not threaten kitchens.
The transformation of an administrative milestone into a consumer ultimatum collapses when tested against the law.
The Aadhaar Act, 2016 permits mandatory Aadhaar authentication only for the receipt of subsidies, benefits, or services funded from the Consolidated Fund of India. LPG subsidy falls within this category. LPG supply does not. Purchasing a cylinder at market price is a commercial transaction, not a welfare entitlement.
This distinction was reinforced decisively by the Supreme Court in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy v Union of India. The Court held that Aadhaar cannot be made compulsory for services beyond welfare delivery, that authentication failure cannot result in denial of essential services, and that executive instructions cannot override fundamental rights.
In effect, the law erects a firewall. Subsidy can be conditional. Supply cannot be. No ministry clarification, dealer instruction, or backend target can cross that line without statutory backing.
January 31, 2026 does not alter this legal architecture. A date does not acquire coercive force merely by repetition.
If the law is clear, the confusion is structural.
At the dealership level, compliance is often measured numerically. Aadhaar seeding percentages, e-KYC completion rates, and DBT reconciliation figures are tracked closely. Distributors operate under pressure to close gaps quickly, particularly when audits loom.
In this environment, nuance is expensive. Explaining the difference between subsidy eligibility and supply rights takes time. Warning of a looming deadline is faster. The message simplifies itself as it travels downwards. Verification becomes compulsion. Optional becomes mandatory. Administrative becomes punitive.
This distortion is rarely written. It is oral, informal, and difficult to trace. Consumers are rushed through biometric capture without written consent. Aadhaar numbers are demanded without purpose limitation. The absence of a visible order is compensated for by urgency and fear.
What emerges is an informal economy of misinformation, sustained not by malice alone but by targets and convenience.
The consequences of this drift are not theoretical.
Elderly consumers struggle with biometric authentication as fingerprints wear down with age. Manual alternatives exist on paper but are often unavailable in practice. Some are told to return with younger family members. Others are warned that their connections may be flagged.
PMUY beneficiaries, already navigating poverty, face anxiety over subsidy suspension due to minor mismatches. Consumers paying full market price fear disconnection despite having no subsidy claim at all. The biometric scanner becomes a gatekeeper where none was authorised.
There are also security risks. Aadhaar numbers and mobile-linked LPG profiles have been exploited in SIM swap frauds, OTP interception, and subsidy diversion cases across states. Over-collection of identity data concentrates risk. When systems fail, exclusion follows, precisely the outcome the Supreme Court warned against.
These are quiet harms. They do not announce themselves as policy failures. They surface as missed refills, delayed deliveries, and households quietly paying more or going without.
Accountability in this context is neither radical nor complicated.
It begins with written clarity. If Aadhaar is being requested, the purpose must be stated explicitly. Subsidy verification must be distinguished clearly from supply entitlement. Dealers must be instructed in writing on what they cannot do as much as on what they can.
Alternative verification mechanisms must exist in practice, not merely in circulars. Grievance redress must be visible and responsive. Consumers must be told where to complain and what the law permits them to refuse.
Beyond administration, scrutiny matters. RTIs, media reporting, and consumer litigation have historically been the mechanisms that correct drift in welfare delivery. Silence allows informal coercion to harden into routine.
Deadlines require oversight because they tempt overreach.
January 31, 2026 was meant to clean databases, not police citizens. It was designed to improve subsidy delivery, not to stand between households and cooking gas. The law has not moved. The Constitution has not yielded. Only the narrative has shifted.
Deadlines cannot substitute law. Convenience cannot outrun constitutional limits. And no whispered warning at a dealership counter can manufacture authority where none exists.
