In the narrow, rundown alleys of a southern Delhi slum, Afshana Khatoon knelt tiredly and started igniting a modest heap of firewood.

She had just come back after six hours roaming the urban woods and arid parks of India's capital in search of twigs to fashion into an improvised stove. Amid the relentless summer temperatures exceeding 40C, she trekked long distances, balancing a load of sticks and dropped branches on her head as perspiration streamed down her face.

Only weeks earlier, the 35-year-old mother of four had cooked for her children using a compact gas stove without much hassle. However, the Middle East turmoil has disrupted India's essential imports of liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) - relied upon by over 60% of the nation's households for cooking - leading to shortages and prices that have spiked well beyond most budgets.

Like increasing numbers across India and broader Asia, Khatoon has resorted to primitive, polluting fuels such as wood and coal just to get by. "It feels like hell already," she remarked while tending to a pot of water. "I'm not eating well, and my workload has doubled. My entire day revolves around gathering wood and preparing meals."

This shift back to traditional fuels like wood and coal is not just intensifying the financial burdens of the conflict on everyday people throughout Asia but also sparking alarms over public health, air quality, and the precariousness of shifting to cleaner energy.

India sources roughly 60% of its LPG from abroad, with about 90% typically passing through the Strait of Hormuz, the key maritime passage still obstructed by the Iran-US conflict. Government figures indicate a drop of 2.2 million tonnes in LPG use during April, the steepest in recent years.

With the war persisting, black-market cooking gas prices have skyrocketed. In Khatoon's shadowy hut, her 5kg canister lay unused in the corner. She explained that LPG costs had ballooned to over four times the previous rate, making it unaffordable. "My husband brings home 400 to 500 rupees daily. We can't drop 1,000 rupees weekly just on gas," she said.

Although the Indian government denies any supply crunch, Prime Minister Narendra Modi urged austerity in a recent address, including curbing fuel and petrol consumption. The defence minister noted petroleum gas stocks sufficient for only 45 days.

Once kindled, Khatoon's firewood stove billows dense smoke that irritates the eyes and throat, yet she must endure it while cooking. Clutching her head, she confessed to profound fatigue. "We just want to finish cooking fast," she added.

The resurgence of biomass fuels is triggering warnings about urban air quality across the region. Solid options like wood and charcoal carry serious health and ecological dangers, releasing harmful pollutants tied to respiratory illnesses including chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and lung cancer, as well as strokes and cardiovascular issues.

The joint impact of outdoor and indoor air pollution contributes to 6.7 million early deaths each year, per the World Health Organization. Women and children, often tasked with cooking and fuel collection, face the greatest risks.

Delhi already tops lists of the globe's dirtiest cities, and long-term efforts have pushed cleaner alternatives like LPG and compressed natural gas to cut emissions.

Green advocates worry that hard-won advances in clean fuel adoption are unraveling as the Middle East war continues. Facing worsening shortages, Delhi officials have eased bans on coal and wood temporarily.

"Price hikes hit the poorest hardest, pushing them back to biomass," noted Harjeet Singh, climate advocate and founder of the Satat Sampada Climate Foundation. "Burning biomass generates significant fine particulates. In crowded cities with poor ventilation, the effects amplify dramatically."

In the last ten years, India has supplied over 100 million discounted cooking gas cylinders. Yet this crisis reveals a core issue: availability does not ensure affordability, forcing families to pick between meals and fuel.

For countless households, Singh observed, the gas cylinder now represents "a shift they can no longer maintain financially."

Far off in the Philippines - where 90% of LPG relies on Hormuz shipments - a parallel situation unfolds.

In a grim Manila backstreet, Josephine Songalia huddled beside a charcoal stove, coaxing a flame to life. Months back, she simply twisted a dial on her LPG unit. Now, gas is a luxury beyond reach, with small tank prices tripling to around Php600 ($9.80 or £7.20).

Charcoal, despite its grime and emissions, costs Songalia just Php10, enough for rice and hot water. At meals, she warns her children to stay back from the hazardous vapors.

"I fear the smoke damaging my lungs and causing illness, but I ignore it because my kids need to eat," said the 25-year-old, residing with her husband and three children in Aroma, Tondo, one of Manila's neediest areas.

Worsening matters, war-related food price rises in the Philippines leave her family skipping meals. "Mornings bring cries of hunger from my kids. I say no food - just coffee," she shared.

Philippine LPG demand has plunged 30% year-over-year as cost drives switches to charcoal. To alleviate pressures, authorities paused excise taxes on LPG and paraffin for three months.

"Family health hangs in the balance ... indoor pollution will spread," warned Mylene G Cayetano, environmental science and meteorology professor at the University of the Philippines, Diliman.

Cayetano highlighted that low-cost charcoal making is "extremely filthy." Done near coasts or rivers, it spews ash, smoke, and wreaks habitat damage.

Returning to the Delhi slum as dusk settled and firewood fires kindled for supper, 75-year-old Shanti gasped for air. Diagnosed with chronic lung disease, she has cooked on wood for two months. "Doctors said avoid smoke," she coughed. "But what can I do? My condition worsens, yet I must eat."