Assam Mourns Iconic Singer Zubeen Garg, A Voice That United Generations

Farewell, Mayabini

September 19, 2025. Assam lost a chunk of her soul and self. Zubeen Garg is dead, and a chasm of deafening silence echoes through the minds of countless people who call the State home.

The sounds of my childhood, youth and working life have been silenced by the sudden demise of an icon whose music united people, humanitarian actions held forth on the united Assamese identity amidst cantankerous political discourse, and whose defiance of a religious or caste label symbolised everything that this land by the Brahmaputra stands for. Garg’s ability to influence people, and to mobilise compassion and empathy is unmatched in recent memory, beyond the global celebrity of Michael Jackson or the magnetism of Princess Diana.

The Assamese experience is unique. Till today, bonfires, guitars and singing replace an absent night life in most towns and villages. As a 90s teenager, I find that significant memories are linked to his songs as background score.

Our generation (35-50) grew up under the shadow of insurgency. The United Liberation Front of Asom (ULFA) movement was crushed by the Central government through President’s rule, with Operations ‘Bajrang’ and ‘Rhino’ controlling the violence. For Assam’s youth, there were no jobs and no real chance to build a future. Prior to this was a violent history of language riots over Assamese and Bengali, and the six-year-long Assam Andolan. Human rights violations by the Armed Forces were reported in regional newspapers but never brought consequences.

Sundown in my hometown, Tinsukia, meant a curfew-like environment on most evenings. For teenagers (like me), this left no sports, no swimming, no music or dance lessons, no hanging out. Entertainment was limited to Doordarshan, when we had electricity. And the radio and the tape recorder that still played. Radio Arunachal played the Beatles, CSNY and Bob Dylan; and All India Radio (AIR) gave us Assam’s original music.

It was in the aftermath of these bleak years that Garg emerged. His first album, Anamika (1992), breathed lightness into our lives. Garg’s songs carried the potential of possibility—proof that a talent from our land could create magic and transcend to the national stage successfully.

We didn’t understand love and romance, but while moving to higher secondary education, we did look forward to experiencing it. So, when a hostel boy would propose to a hostel girl to the lyrics of Anamika, life felt wonderful, despite the bad food.

Having been a cinema journalist, with forays into lifestyle and fashion, I found my Assamese identity undermined. Delhi’s news circles were elitist when I began working (in 2001) and Northeasterners were sneakily mocked, even in newsrooms.

In Mumbai, most people assumed I am a Bengali; others blinked in ignorance. Barring the Mozart of Madras, A.R. Rahman, who immediately recollected his memories of Garg, I don’t recall a single interview with a Bollywood celebrity that connected to anything ‘Assamese’ or recognised the singer. The film industry was fuelled by self-obsession. It was hard not to bristle.

For the Assamese people working in Hindi films or in TV stations like me, putting up an identity battle took a backseat to making the rent, paying bills and managing to eat. While sneaking a few rooftop beers, Garg wafting through the speakers would bring back memories of home, flavours and fragrances.

When Ya Ali (2006) became an instant chartbuster, Garg got noticed in the Hindi film song market. Rather than pursue riches and the approval of a superstar-driven industry, he displayed the courage of a genuine artiste by quitting Bollywood at the peak of his singing career. He returned home to Assam to build a body of work that has no parallel in contemporary music. Garg sang, played, composed, nurtured fresh singers, jammed with colleagues, and acted in films to fuel an independent music and movie scene in Assam. Mission China (2017), a slickly-made film, grossed five crore rupees locally and breathed life into an ailing Assamese film industry.

Through the Kalaguru Artiste Foundation, along with his wife Garima, a fashion designer, he donated to flood relief, child rescue and other efforts. He helped those in need without thinking twice. But his most significant social contribution to Assam was his non-partisan, standalone identity. He refused to be identified as a Brahmin or a Hindu. He stood by the anti-CAA protests in the state. He did not play by any rules and effortlessly offered resistance to injustice.

Assam is starved of recognisable ‘heroes’. Our music legends are our biggest inspiration. Garg stands tall amongst these august figures. His unapologetic choices have taught us one thing—we don’t need no validation. We, the Assamese, are enough.

(Archita Kashyap is a writer, content creator and journalist and an autism parent. She has tracked cinema, OTT, music and global entertainment for publications and news networks. She is a communications specialist for non- profits and film projects)

This appeared in the magazine October 11, 2025, issue 'I Have A Lot Left Inside' as 'In Memoriam Diary'.