Newsletter
#005: India hit its E20 petrol target five years early, saving forex and boosting farmers, but leaving drivers with higher costs, lower mileage, and no choice at the pump.
TLDR
- India’s rise: ethanol blending has saved ₹1.4 lakh crore in foreign exchange and given farmers a steady ₹1.2 lakh crore income stream.
- Cracks in the story: drivers face higher costs, lower mileage, and engine worries, while cane-driven ethanol strains groundwater and raises food-versus-fuel concerns.
- Next chapter: with higher blends like E27 being discussed, India’s challenge is balancing farmer gains with consumer choice and environmental sustainability.
You don’t notice it when the nozzle goes in, or when the meter ticks up at the petrol pump. But once you’re back on the road, the signs begin to show, the mileage isn’t what it used to be, the engine feels rougher, and repair worries start to creep in.
Millions of drivers across India are discovering this the hard way. The reason is E20, a new petrol blend with 20% ethanol that has quietly replaced regular fuel across the country.
The twist? Most people didn’t even know when this switch happened. Not long ago, the government proudly announced that it had achieved its E20 blending target five years ahead of schedule. That’s when the backlash began. Two out of three vehicle owners, according to a LocalCircles survey, said they were against the mandate.
YouTube reviewers started showing efficiency drops of their vehicle. Insurance startups were forced to issue clarifications after being spammed with queries about whether engine damage from E20 would be covered.
The short answer: not unless it’s accident-related. Suddenly, what was pitched as “clean fuel for the future” felt more like a ticking time bomb under the bonnet.
And then came the Supreme Court. A public interest plea argued that millions of motorists were being forced into this policy without a choice, no ethanol-free petrol, no labels at the pumps, nothing. On September 1, the top court dismissed the case within minutes. The government’s defence was clear: ethanol blending supports sugarcane farmers, saves foreign exchange, and shows India is serious about climate action. All valid points. But for drivers, it sounded like confirmation that their concerns didn’t matter.
So what exactly is E20?
Simply put, it’s regular petrol with one-fifth replaced by ethanol, a form of alcohol made from crops like sugarcane, maize, or even surplus rice. India started small in the early 2000s with E5, then shifted to E10. Now it’s E20. Ethanol itself isn’t unusual, it’s the same alcohol found in liquor, only purified to fuel grade. It burns cleaner than petrol in theory, with lower carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide emissions when used in engines designed for it. Globally, countries like Brazil and the US have been running blends for decades, some even offering 100% ethanol pumps for flex-fuel vehicles.
But here’s where India’s story diverges.
Back in 2014–15, when blending was being ramped up, officials sold it as a triple win: help farmers, reduce oil imports, and make petrol cheaper for consumers. At the time, ethanol was indeed cheaper than petrol, so the promise sounded real.
Ethanol was cheaper than petrol in 2014 because demand was low and it was a by-product. Today, because of policy-driven demand, expanded feedstocks, higher irrigation and production costs, and guaranteed procurement, ethanol prices have climbed to the point where they now exceed refined petrol costs.
Fast forward to 2025, and two of those promises still hold, the government claims it has saved ₹1.4 lakh crore in foreign exchange and farmers have pocketed over ₹1.2 lakh crore in payments. But the “cheaper petrol” dream? That’s gone. Today, ethanol costs about ₹71 a litre on average, higher than refined petrol. Pump prices for consumers have barely fallen, just about 2% in three years, even as global crude prices have dropped by 60%.
That’s the paradox drivers are furious about. They’re paying the same (or more) for a fuel that delivers fewer kilometres per litre, with no option to choose otherwise. For someone driving a cab or commuting 50 km daily, even a 5% mileage drop means thousands of rupees lost every year. Two-wheeler riders, who form the majority of India’s vehicle fleet, feel the pinch even more. And this isn’t just about chemistry. It’s about trust.
A programme that was supposed to be about clean air and farmer welfare has been rolled out with almost zero transparency for consumers. No labelling at pumps. No honest conversation about trade-offs. And no choice in the matter. The government may have scored a policy win, and the Supreme Court may have backed it, but for millions of drivers filling up every day, it feels like they’ve been forced into a deal they didn’t sign up for.
This gap between promise and reality is best captured by a simple fact-check.
So if consumers are losing out, who’s winning? To answer that, you have to leave the petrol pumps and step into the sugarcane fields.
At the heart of India’s ethanol push lies the farmer. Ethanol supply is still dominated by cane, processed either through molasses or directly from cane juice. Volumes have risen from just 40 crore litres in FY14 to nearly 670 crore litres in FY24, now consuming around 9% of total sugar output. For growers, this has been transformative.
Since FY15, the Centre claims to have channelled over ₹1.2 lakh crore to farmers through ethanol sales, effectively turning them into “Urjadaatas” — providers of energy, not just food. The stability comes from one crucial design: guaranteed offtake. Oil marketing companies are mandated to buy ethanol under fixed contracts.
That means sugar mills no longer depend entirely on volatile sugar prices. In years of surplus, cane can be diverted to distilleries, preventing stockpiles and delays in farmer payments. For growers in UP, Maharashtra, and Karnataka, states that dominate cane cultivation and play a large role in electoral politics, this has created a steady and politically sensitive lifeline.
The ethanol boom has also sparked a distillery building spree.
Since the 2018 Biofuel Policy, companies have rushed to add capacity, helped by government-backed soft loans and interest subvention schemes. India’s total production capacity has now crossed 1,000 crore litres annually. Large listed players like Balrampur Chini, Triveni Engineering, Shree Renuka, and EID Parry treat ethanol as a core growth engine, while dozens of smaller mills are betting their survival on new distilleries.
The upside is clear: predictable contracts and higher margins. The risk is equally obvious: over-leverage. Several smaller sugar firms have taken on heavy debt to ride the ethanol wave, and if blending targets plateau or procurement prices shift, their balance sheets could come under pressure.
The winners and losers look very different depending on where you stand.
Even this picture is not complete without looking at the environmental ledger.
Ethanol is framed as a clean fuel, and the government says it has already reduced carbon dioxide emissions by 700 lakh tonnes. But most of India’s ethanol still comes from sugarcane, one of the thirstiest crops in the world. Growing one tonne requires 60–70 tonnes of water.
Many cane-growing districts in Maharashtra and Uttar Pradesh are already over-extracting groundwater. A 2023 Central Groundwater Board report flagged that cane belts in Maharashtra pull far more groundwater than neighbouring regions, worsening drought vulnerability.
The Desertification and Land Degradation Atlas of India 2021 found that almost 30% of the country’s land is already degraded, and intensive cane farming accelerates the risk. Diversification has begun with record quantities of rice and maize diverted for ethanol but that creates another trade-off: food security.
In FY25, India imported 9.7 lakh tonnes of corn, six times the previous year, because so much domestic maize went into ethanol. When foodgrains meant for humans and cattle are being funnelled into fuel tanks, the food-versus-fuel debate isn’t academic anymore.
India isn’t the first country to wrestle with these dilemmas.
Brazil pioneered large-scale blending in the 1970s after the oil crisis. Its success came from designing flex-fuel vehicles, backed by consumer choice and tax incentives. Today, more than 85% of new cars in Brazil can run on any mix of ethanol and petrol, and pumps are clearly labelled. But even there, reliance on sugarcane for ethanol has raised concerns about biodiversity and land use.
The US mainstreamed E10 under its Renewable Fuel Standard from 2005, with corn as the main feedstock. Most petrol there is E10, but consumers can also choose E15 or E85 at thousands of stations. The European Union has been more cautious, mandating E10 in some countries but preserving E5 in others, with strict labelling requirements. Uptake has been slow because of consumer scepticism and engine concerns, but the point is clear: choice matters.
India, by contrast, has offered no choice. No E0, no E5, no labels, just E20 everywhere.
The political economy explains why.
Since 2014–15, India’s ethanol programme has saved over ₹1.4 lakh crore in foreign exchange, according to the Petroleum Ministry. Public sector companies like IOC and BPCL have paid record dividends to the government, rising 255% since 2022–23, even as global crude crashed. Yet petrol prices at the pump barely budged. The gains have flowed to the exchequer, to PSUs, and to farmers, not to consumers. Add to this the politics of sugarcane; a crop grown in states that swing elections… and the compulsions are obvious. Ethanol isn’t just a clean fuel policy. It’s a political project.
This raises a deeper question: is E20 a bridge to a cleaner transport future, or a detour? India wants 30% of new vehicle sales to be electric by 2030. Yet EV penetration is stuck at 7.6%. Automakers are investing heavily, but supply chains for rare earth magnets, crucial for EV motors, are vulnerable because China dominates global production. Maruti Suzuki recently cut near-term EV production targets, citing delays in rare earth supplies. Other manufacturers are bracing for disruptions too. In this light, ethanol looks like a politically convenient stopgap, a way to show climate action without tackling the harder transition to EVs.
There are other alternatives on the horizon. Second-generation ethanol plants are being set up to make fuel from crop residues and agri waste, reducing pressure on food crops. Hydrogen, especially green hydrogen, is being touted as the “fuel of the future” for heavy transport and industry. Synthetic fuels are also being piloted globally.
But all of these are years away from scale. For now, E20 is the reality.
The unanswered question is whether India will stop here or push further. Minister Hardeep Singh Puri has hinted at higher blends, even up to E27, like Brazil. But the government itself has said no decision has been taken yet.
If it does go further, the pressure on farmers, consumers, and ecosystems will only intensify. That’s why consumer safeguards like proper labelling, dual supply of fuels, insurance clarity, and transparent communication are no longer optional. They are the minimum for a fair transition.
In the end, ethanol blending is both an energy transition and a political bet.
For farmers and the exchequer, it’s a clear win. For drivers, it’s a messy adjustment that feels more like a hidden tax. For the climate, the jury is still out.
India’s E20 moment is less about whether ethanol is good or bad, and more about whether the country can manage a just transition; one that supports farmers without punishing drivers, and cuts emissions without draining aquifers. The promise of ethanol was always about balance. The challenge now is to prove it’s not just another sweet high, followed by the inevitable dip.
If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading. We’ll be back next week, like clockwork.
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