I could vividly remember my rendering solidarity at Santiniketan’s Kala-Bhavana’ arena with my Assamese brothers and sisters to wreath our homage to Zubeen Garg right after his passing. I was trying to apprehend then what is this nature of chromosomal code- an Artist can afford to have, when an entire socio-ethnic linguistic clan could get equated with its identity! Zubeen Garg was not just a singer. He becomes the undivided identity synonym to an entire ethnicity. His life has been a song written on the breath of the Brahmaputra – wild, free, natural. He lived like a bohemian flame, refusing to bow before the cold marble of convention. Assam and the Northeast have long lingered at the margins by the so-called ‘main stream India’ of culture, of politics, of existential identity, of memory itself. Their rivers murmur in silence, their hills rise uncelebrated, their voices drift like mist, overlooked and unseen. In this shadowed space, Zubeen emerged as a rebel of recognition. Not for fame, not for applause – but to awaken presence where absence had lingered. His music became the pulse of the unseen. Every note a claim. Every pause a mirror. Each song, a testament to the dignity of a land long relegated. The hills, the Brahmaputra, the drifting mists – all became vessels of his voice. Each melody, a ritual. Each performance, a reclamation. Marginality transfigured into resistance. This to follow him was to witness a metaphysics of rebellion in celebration.
Sadly, after all these days of his demise, on the one hand one can get to see the ardent platter of obnoxious politicization, and yet to get the actual probe, on the other you can witness the Digital Tamasha of having flown thousands of edited videos, shots, reels being associated with the departed soul by these most dangerous creatures living out there in social media in the name of influencer, digital creator etc. Zubeen is so great that he continues to give only, to these politicians and these content creators even after his death!
When the country is being quivered under shadows of turbulence- when every name, caste, faith, gender, religion, identity, birth, every aspects of life are measured, judged and confined atrociously, the commemoration and celebration of Zubeen Garg is becoming important more. Specially the life he led being an unyielding cultural icon of Assam, of the Northeast, of India, of World, and the flowing rhythm in music of living he showed as a declaration of collective conscience until the very last, should be celebrated in a more heartfelt way.
“Mor Kono Dhormo Nai, Mor Kono Bhogoban Nai, Moi Mukto” (I don’t have any Religion, I don’t have any God, I’m Free) – Zubeen embodied freedom not as rejection, but as unconditional embrace. And when he departed, every religions bowed in unison. Temples, mosques, churches, carried prayers that spoke one language – gratitude, love, remembrance. He had transcended creed like an a true Artist only can. His love knew no divisions. Every person, every heart, every life was worthy of melody, of compassion, of recognition. He sang for the joyous and the broken alike. He walked among people not as a star, but as a witness to their humanity.
The 1990s’s Assam were seeing its severe shadows and storms. ULFA insurgency cast its long darkness over towns, schools, streets. Fear settled like mist. Curfews, violence, uncertainty- every day carried the weight of unrest. Communities fought to claim identity and sovereignty, yet the human cost was heavy. Lives, hearts, and dreams were fractured. It was into this storm that Zubeen Garg emerged. Born into the heart of Assamese culture, steeped in music, rhythm, and story. He did not sing for mere art. He sang to awaken. Every note reached across fear. Every melody gave shape to emotions politics could not name. Every pause held the reflection of a people weighed down by uncertainty. The generation of 1992 found in him mirror and refuge. Fragmentation transformed into harmony. Anxiety into resonance. Chaos into song. He became the pulse of a land seeking its own voice. Zubeen did not merely sing. He illuminated. He liberated. He carried Assam in his breath, turning despair into hope, silence into presence, and every note into the rhythm of a people rediscovering themselves. From the turbulence of the 1990s to the pulse of today’s recent time, Zubeen Garg has been fearless, untamed, unbound. A rebel of recognition, he spoke for the unseen, the unheard, the marginalized. His art carried conscience; his words carried fire and irritation for Noida based mainstream media. When CAA and NRC threatened humanity itself, he spoke with courage, blunt and relentless. Not for fame. Not for applause. But for justice. For dignity. Through out decades, he remains a storm, a river- Brahmaputra, a mountain- Kangchenjunga that the whole Assam, the Northeast, the India witnessed – every life he touched, a testament to living fully, loving unconditionally, speaking by heart without fear.
Bollywood’s mainstream glamour and its bloating validations were trivial to him like the shadows against the light of his own land. He refused the structural mainstream to create his own, not for ego, but for fidelity to the soul of Assam. To bend his voice, his identity, or his purpose would have been a betrayal of the people, the culture, the landscape that lived within him. Assam and the Northeast were not just his home; they were his pulse, his rhythm, his very breath. Every note, every pause, carried their rivers, hills, and valleys. Art, for him, was never a full commodity, it was the manifestation of truth, essence, and conscience made audible.
Yet, Zubeen Garg’s greatness extends far beyond music and art. His life is a testament to humanity in action, a philosophy of giving without expectation. He reached out to the needy, supported causes quietly, and transformed personal influence into collective upliftment. Charity was not a duty for him — it was an extension of being, a natural outflow of empathy. He understood that art and life are intertwined, that a river nourishes not for praise, but because it must. His generosity became part of his aura as we are seeing even today, how social media are flooded with images and videos of people being strived to show their once-upon-a-time connection with him. Zubeen won hearts because he spoke the language of being itself. Ever-present, ever-flowing, he moved like a spontaneous child of the wind – questioning, laughing, defining every norm. His voice trembled neither before power nor expectation. It challenged the mainstream, stirred thought, and opened spaces where celebration became a communion of souls. That is why with most naturally Assamese, Bengali, Mizo, Naga, Khasi, Garo, Jayantia, Apatani, Galo, Monpa, Khamti, Sikkimese, Meitei – all were mirrored in his vision, all were recognized in the luminous sweep of his heart.
He called himself socio-leftist which seems not as a mere banner or ideology, but as the language of compassion. His “left” was a heart that bled for the unseen, the unheard, the forgotten. His songs were not melodies alone; they were offerings – food for the soul, light for the shadowed , a pulse of hope for a neglected land. He sang not merely from stages, but from the streets where life moved, where hearts beat, where suffering and joy intertwined. His fame was not measured in applause, but in human connection. Since he left, “Mayabini” haunts the land; the valleys, the rivers, the skies, the hearts – all tremble with its presence. Grief and celebration intertwine. Brahmaputra carries it. Kanchanjunga guards it. In its cadence, Zubeen’s soul speaks – luminous, eternal, unbound, beyond all form. Thus Zubeen is not gone definitely, he is always becoming – a river, a mountain, a song, a luminous heartbeat of a land that remembers, reveres, and carries him forward in heart forever.
Arijit Ray is a distinct Researcher, Teacher, Writer, Critic, Psychoanalyst Cinephile, hailing from the district of Birbhum, West Bengal. His wide ranging writings cover up various areas like Cultural Studies, Art Cinema, Poetry Music, Buddhism, Philosophy, Mind.