Prashant Tamang: The Unforgettable Face Of Indian Idol From The Walkman Era

One of the perfomances of Prashant Tamang from Indian Idol 3 that continues to remain etched in public memory is the one where he is seen singing dressed in a police uniform. It was pathbreaking in many ways that an individual from a marginalised community within Indian social consciousness was finally competing on a national stage and eventually becoming an Indian Idol, opening up possibilities for young people from minority groups to imagine futures beyond government jobs. Tamang came with a face that was easily distinguishable from the rest of the contestants—he had an accent and took a significant step by entering a singing competition while still enlisted as a constable. His story was far removed from those of the other contestants. He brought with him an unprecedented visibility for the Nepali community in particular and for marginalised communities at large.

Today, it is easier to expect and even witness people from the periphery gaining momentum in the music and entertainment industry, but in 2007, the landscape was very different. It was a rare opportunity for Tamang and a unique experience for his people to see someone from their community on national television. His presence in the competition was startling for many, to the extent that a Radio Jockey sparked controversy by remarking that now that Gurkhas had started singing, shopkeepers would have to arrange their own security. This led to massive unrest in Siliguri and Darjeeling, where people were injured, towns were burnt, and the Army had to stage a flag march. Tamang’s participation in the singing competition, therefore, was not a conventional one; it was immensely important, bringing a long-neglected set of communities into public consciousness. This reaction stemmed from the entrenched social positioning of Nepalis as security guards, cooks, helpers, and caretakers in metropolitan India. It is within this context that Tamang’s participation and eventual victory became a breakthrough for many, far beyond his own community.

His season was also extremely popular among people from the Northeast, many of whom followed it closely. One of my memories of him is associated with the album he released after winning the competition. It was December 2007, a time when Walkmans and cassettes were still widely in circulation. My sister had bought a silver-coloured portable audio player (popularly known by its brand name, ‘Walkman’) from Gangtok, and along with it, she bought a few cassettes, including Tamang’s new album Dhanyavad, with his popular song Zindagi Pehle Itni Haseen Kahan. The lines from this song carry profound personal and collective meanings:

Raste hain sab wahi badla hai bas jahaan

Raat to guzar gayi hai aa gayi subah

Kisko khabar thi ye humein le aayengi yahan…

Released in October 2007, the album became popular among our people and was played across households on cassette decks and loudspeakers. Somewhere deep within, we may have discovered a sense of hope—that people with our facial features and accents could also claim space on a national stage. All these contexts surrounding his emergence make him a distinctly unique winner of the competition. The winners before and after him, except for Sourabhee Debbarma, did not carry similar social contexts, histories, or personal trajectories. Tamang was deeply relatable; he embodied the linguistic, social, and cultural distinctiveness that shapes the lived realities of most marginalised communities in India.

It is not that India has never seen a culturally influential public figure of Nepali origin before. Manisha Koirala remains a prominent example for this. She entered Indian cinema and rose to become one of its biggest stars, yet the background she carried was very different from Tamang’s. Hers was a background marked by wealth and political lineage, while Tamang’s stood in sharp contrast to this. Despite this, he achieved national recognition that resonated not with a niche audience but with Nepalis across India. If one recalls Chunky Panday’s character Rana Jang Bahadur in films like Apna Sapna Money Money (2006) and the larger stereotyping of Nepalis in popular culture, Tamang’s victory on Indian Idol directly challenged such representations, as was evident from the RJ controversy. His win opened up possibilities for the Indian public to know, understand, and reimagine Nepali identity. This is a process that Tamang, in his own way, helped initiate—one that gradually gathered momentum in the years that followed.

With the passing of Prashant Tamang, we have not only lost a former Indian Idol winner, but also a man who dared to enter and win a national competition at a time when Indians were still extremely unprepared to accept people who looked like him. He was one among the first through whom the larger Indian public encountered an individual who did not fit their limited imagination of Indianness, yet was truly and equally Indian.