(A tribute to beloved Zubeen Da)
From my childhood, I had been listening to his songs. They stirred different emotions within me — sometimes they made me feel energetic and full of life, sometimes they spoke of love, sometimes they made me cry. At times they created social awareness, and at other moments his words simply healed me.
Later, I heard him singing live on television when digital TV was newly launched in Assam. His voice was so pleasing that even without music it could move hearts. It was a voice that felt almost divine — a voice that carried the message of humanity.
In a world filled with toxicity, terrorism, violence, and the harshness of politics, his bohemian philosophy often helped me heal my mind. Though I never met him personally, I always felt a strange connection with his soul.
During my teenage years, I read everything about him in magazines — about his childhood, his love life, his marriage, and his struggle in Mumbai. Girls in the hostel often discussed his love life and felt a special connection with him, as he belonged to our hometown, Jorhat, and his then girlfriend, now wife, Garima Garg, belongs to the nearby town of Golaghat. I read in newspapers about the tragic death of his sister in a brutal accident and the painful loss of his mother. I saw his glamour on television and later on social media.
But I realized that I knew very little about the deeper side of his life — his sacrifices, his kindness, and the countless acts of charity he quietly did for people across the world.
People celebrated his success, admired his awards, and enjoyed his electrifying concerts. Yet very few understood the pain behind his creations, the loneliness of an artist, and the emotional struggles hidden behind his smile.
His death abroad under suspicious circumstances created mass grief across Assam. For months, people mourned. From a three-year-old child to elderly people, everyone felt the loss deeply. I even remember seeing a mentally unstable man wandering on the roadside, crying continuously when he heard about his death.
Only then did we realize what we had lost.
He was not just a singer — he was the soul of Assam.
Through his music, he created social harmony not only in Assam but across Northeast India, where thousands of tribes with different languages and cultures live together. His songs carried emotions that united people beyond differences.
But Zubeen Da was not only a legendary singer — he was also a compassionate human being. He loved animals deeply and often cared for injured or abandoned animals. He was known to help strangers, speak kindly to people on the streets, and show respect even to those whom society often ignores.
He quietly supported many people — helping patients who could not afford treatment, encouraging students, and guiding new artists who were struggling to find their place in the world of music. Many young musicians today still remember how he encouraged them in their early days.
His generosity was never loud or publicized. It was silent, sincere, and deeply humane.
The “Humming King”, as many lovingly called him, left us far too soon. His departure created a deep cultural and emotional void in Assam. For a society already struggling with cultural insecurity, losing such a voice felt devastating.
But perhaps voices like his never truly disappear. They continue to live in the songs we sing, in the memories we carry, and in the hearts that still beat to his music.
We thought we knew him.
But we truly understood how much of our soul he had become only after his departure.
Zubeen Da (Zubeen Garg) was not just a singer.
He was a feeling, a spirit, and a heartbeat of Assam.
