Union minister Nitin Gadkari’s challenge—asking critics to name even a single car in india that has data-faced problems due to 20% ethanol-blended petrol—has stirred debate, but it also opens the door to deeper questions the government has yet to address. If ethanol is indeed cheaper to produce and blend than traditional petrol, why hasn’t this cost advantage translated into a lower retail price for consumers? Fuel prices in india are already among the highest in the region, and motorists argue that if ethanol blending is meant to benefit the economy, it should also ease the burden on the common man’s pocket. Without a reduction in pump prices, the perception will grow that ethanol’s economic gains are being captured elsewhere, not passed on to the public.
The second question cuts into the heart of a silent but critical concern—vehicle insurance claims. If ethanol blending truly has “no issues” for engines and fuel systems, why are some insurance companies hesitant or unwilling to cover damages linked to fuel-related failures? This cautious stance by insurers suggests that risks—whether mechanical or warranty-related—do exist, even if they haven’t yet erupted into widespread public scandals. For the average car or bike owner, this raises trust issues: they are being told the fuel is perfectly safe, yet the safety net of insurance may not fully protect them in case of trouble.
Finally, Gadkari’s optimistic projection that farmers could contribute more than 20% to India’s GDP in the future is encouraging on paper, but it brings with it an uncomfortable political question: will this growth also mean agricultural income is brought under the tax net? For decades, farm income in india has been exempt from income tax, a policy rooted in supporting rural livelihoods. However, if the sector grows into a GDP heavyweight—especially with ethanol crop production playing a role—there may be renewed calls to revisit this exemption. Without clarity on such fiscal implications, the ethanol narrative risks appearing as yet another policy where the benefits are unevenly distributed and the long-term consequences are left unanswered.
The second question cuts into the heart of a silent but critical concern—vehicle insurance claims. If ethanol blending truly has “no issues” for engines and fuel systems, why are some insurance companies hesitant or unwilling to cover damages linked to fuel-related failures? This cautious stance by insurers suggests that risks—whether mechanical or warranty-related—do exist, even if they haven’t yet erupted into widespread public scandals. For the average car or bike owner, this raises trust issues: they are being told the fuel is perfectly safe, yet the safety net of insurance may not fully protect them in case of trouble.
Finally, Gadkari’s optimistic projection that farmers could contribute more than 20% to India’s GDP in the future is encouraging on paper, but it brings with it an uncomfortable political question: will this growth also mean agricultural income is brought under the tax net? For decades, farm income in india has been exempt from income tax, a policy rooted in supporting rural livelihoods. However, if the sector grows into a GDP heavyweight—especially with ethanol crop production playing a role—there may be renewed calls to revisit this exemption. Without clarity on such fiscal implications, the ethanol narrative risks appearing as yet another policy where the benefits are unevenly distributed and the long-term consequences are left unanswered.