Heramba Nath
(herambanath2222@gmail.com)
In the cultural consciousness of Assam, few names resonate with such profound intensity as Zubeen Garg. His sudden passing while scuba diving in Singapore has left the state, and indeed the entire Northeast, in a state of disbelief. The news spread like wildfire, paralysing normal life and plunging households into mourning. For many, it felt like the silencing of a voice that had been the background score to their joys, sorrows, and quiet contemplations. He was not merely a singer; he was an emotion, a phenomenon, a lifeline that connected disparate people into one collective soul of music.
Zubeen Garg was more than an artiste—he was the heartbeat of Assam. His passing has created an irreparable void in the cultural, emotional, and spiritual fabric of the region. The grief that has followed his death is not of the ordinary kind one associates with celebrity losses. This grief is raw, intimate, and deeply personal, because Zubeen was never seen as distant or unapproachable. He belonged to the people, walked among them, lived with their struggles, and sang of their dreams. That is why his death feels like the death of a loved one in every Assamese household.
From the very beginning, Zubeen’s life bore the imprint of artistic destiny. His very name, Zubeen, was inspired by the legendary composer Zubin Mehta, signalling the aspirations his parents had for him. He grew up in Jorhat, where his talent blossomed, nurtured by the melodies that floated through the home of a family steeped in cultural pursuits. His sister, the late Jonkie Borthakur, was herself a popular singer. This environment laid the foundation for the boy who would go on to redefine Assamese music and carve a niche in Indian popular culture.
Zubeen’s early years reflected his restless, exploratory spirit. He studied at Jagannath Barooah College and pursued higher education in Guwahati, but his passion for music overshadowed any conventional career path. In 1992, he recorded his first Assamese album, Anamika, which immediately made waves. The freshness of his voice, the fusion of traditional Assamese melodies with contemporary arrangements, and his ability to convey deep emotion set him apart from his contemporaries. Songs like Anamika and Maya became instant hits, ushering in a new era in Assamese music.
As his popularity grew, Zubeen expanded his repertoire, not restricting himself to Assamese songs alone. He recorded in Bengali, Hindi, Nepali, Bodo, and other regional languages, demonstrating his versatility and adaptability. His big break in Bollywood came with the film Gangster (2006), where his song Ya Ali became a nationwide sensation. The song was more than just a hit; it was a cultural wave that carried Zubeen from the Northeast to the mainstream consciousness of India. Yet, despite this success, he never abandoned his roots. Assamese music remained his soul, and he continued to produce one album after another, enriching the cultural heritage of his homeland.
What made Zubeen special was not just the number of languages in which he sang or the diversity of genres he experimented with, but the unique intimacy of his voice. When Zubeen sang, it felt as though he was not performing but conversing, whispering secrets into the ears of his listeners. Whether it was a romantic ballad, a devotional song, or a patriotic anthem, he carried an emotional authenticity that touched hearts beyond boundaries of caste, class, or geography. His art was democratic; it belonged to everyone.
His voice was undoubtedly incomparable, a God-given gift that carried emotion, power, and charm in equal measure. The new generation could never get enough of his songs, listening to them with insatiable delight and rushing to see him live on stage whenever the opportunity arose. His presence was so integral that Bohag Bihu celebrations felt incomplete without him, for he had become synonymous with the joy and vibrancy of the festival. The sorrow of his passing is all the more profound because he was not just a performer but a living embodiment of Assamese musical culture.
His contribution went beyond singing. Zubeen was a lyricist, composer, music director, and actor. He acted in Assamese films, often producing or directing them, and wrote lyrics that bore the stamp of personal pain, social concern, and philosophical reflection. In doing so, he created a holistic artistic universe where words, tunes, and images coalesced into one seamless experience. He was not afraid to experiment; he mixed Bihu beats with Western rock and wove folk traditions with electronic music, and in doing so, ensured that Assamese music was never static but constantly evolving.
Yet, what endeared him to the masses even more was his character. Zubeen was not a celebrity trapped in the cage of glamour. He lived freely, spoke frankly, and extended a hand to the poor and destitute. Numerous accounts tell of his quiet acts of charity—funding education for needy students, paying for medical treatment of strangers, or raising his voice for social causes. He campaigned for environmental conservation, raised awareness about wildlife, and even involved himself in political discussions when he felt the state’s interests were at stake. His activism, like his music, sprang from a genuine love for his people.
This deep connection explains the extraordinary outpouring of grief after his death. The mourning was not restricted to Assam. In Meghalaya, where he was born, people lit candles and sang his songs in unison. In Arunachal Pradesh, the Legislative Assembly observed silence in his memory. In Bengal, his Bengali fans remembered the soulful numbers he had gifted them. Bollywood icons such as AR Rahman, Shreya Ghoshal, Arijit Singh, and Jubin Nautiyal expressed their shock and grief. Armaan Malik sang his Assamese hit Mayabini in tribute, reflecting how Zubeen had broken language barriers to become a pan-Indian cultural figure.
By the death of heartthrob Zubeen Garg, the people of Assam have been plunged into profound sadness. For the new generation in particular, who grew up with his songs as their constant companion, his departure feels unbearable. Many young admirers find it difficult even to look at his images or hear his voice without being overwhelmed by the realisation that he is no more. Their grief speaks not only of the man’s popularity but also of the intimate bond that his music had created with their inner worlds.
On social media, ordinary fans poured out their pain, recalling how his songs had guided them through heartbreak, inspired them in solitude, and given them joy in festivals. Such outpourings are not common, and they prove that Zubeen’s music was not regional in the narrow sense but universal in its emotional power. His songs did not just reflect Assamese identity; they reflected human experience itself. That is why his passing feels not like the loss of a musician, but the loss of a voice of the people’s soul.
For Assam, Zubeen was not just an entertainer but a cultural ambassador. He took Assamese music to national and international platforms, asserting its worth in a world that often overlooks the Northeast. His concerts abroad drew not just Assamese expatriates but also music lovers curious about this unique blend of tradition and modernity. His ability to perform a Bihu song with the same passion as a Hindi film number reflected his dual identity—rooted in the soil of Assam, yet cosmopolitan in spirit.
His life was not free from controversies. His frankness sometimes landed him in trouble with authorities, political parties, and cultural organisations. Yet, these episodes only strengthened his reputation as someone who was fearless and authentic. He did not tailor his words to suit power; he spoke his mind, regardless of consequences. For many young people, this honesty was as inspiring as his music. It taught them that an artist is not only a performer but also a conscience-keeper of society.
As Assam bids farewell to its favourite son, the question arises—what does his legacy mean for the future? Zubeen’s passing is not just the end of an era but also a challenge to the new generation of musicians. He created a new stream of music that blended genres, challenged conventions, and kept Assamese culture vibrant in the modern age. The responsibility now lies on young artistes to carry forward his vision, to ensure that Assamese music does not retreat into obscurity but continues to thrive in the national and global arena.
Zubeen once said in an interview that he wanted to live forever through his songs. In this, he will not be disappointed. From Anamika to Ya Ali, from Mayabini to Dil Tu Hi Bataa, his voice will continue to reverberate across decades. Children not yet born will grow up hearing his melodies, just as today’s youth cannot imagine their childhood without him. His physical presence may have left us, but his essence—his art, his music, his spirit—remains immortal.
The people of Assam will keep him alive in their festivals, in their weddings, in their quiet midnight playlists, and in the protests where his songs will give strength. He will live on in the laughter of young lovers who find their emotions expressed in his romantic ballads. He will live on in the tears of lonely travellers who find solace in his melancholic tunes. He will live on in the beating hearts of those who dare to dream of a better world, because Zubeen always believed in hope, resilience, and beauty.
When the history of Assamese culture is written, Zubeen Garg will be remembered not as a singer alone, but as a phenomenon who defined an epoch. Like Bhupen Hazarika before him, he transformed music into a language of the masses, a medium through which society expressed itself. His songs were not just entertainment; they were literature, philosophy, and politics in melody.
Assam today mourns, but in that mourning lies a deep gratitude. Gratitude for the countless hours of joy he gave, for the courage he inspired, for the pride he instilled in being Assamese. The state will never hear his voice live again, but it will echo forever in its collective memory. For death can silence the body, but it cannot silence music. Music, once born, belongs to eternity.
Zubeen Garg, the heartthrob of millions, has left the stage. But the concert of his life continues in every corner of Assam, in every language he touched, and in every heart he healed. Truly, Zubeen Garg is immortal.