In the cultural landscape of the NorthEast, insurgency, identity struggles and political neglect have cast long shadows. Bomb explosions, abrupt curfews and an atmosphere of fear formed the background of the early years of this rebel. In every home, the Millenials and the Genz’s inherited this trauma, where the silence of the nights was broken by gunshots rather than lullabies.

With time the insurgency cooled and roads and bridges rose. But it was Zubeen's voice that broke through the troubled silence, offering consolation, defiance and the prospect of Hope. Swinging between tenderness and trouble, and singing across all languages, he was a street influencer. He raged from stages, gave away his money, mocked ministers, and broke caste rules. And yet his voice carried survival.

Assam wasn’t just a home for Zubeen. It was a sanctuary where his love for Music, Nature, and Wildlife converged. The singer himself was a cultural bridge who gave Assam a national identity while also leaving a mark in Bollywood. His songs weren’t just songs. They were coded acts of resistance; a political statement; an act of rebellion. They carried an assurance that it was still possible to feel, to love, and to live.

Zubeen was a cultural rebel, a philosopher of resistance, and a friend to his people. His greatest lesson was straightforward but profound: To love is to rebel; and to sing is to resist. Protesters found courage in his presence, and his words served as a reminder that they were not alone.

Often known as the ‘Jim Morrison of the Northeast’, he was the ‘unruly’ ‘rebel king’ with a ‘restless heart’. He urged people to defend their rights, just like Bob Marley did. He dreamed of a better world, just like John Lennon. He put himself in danger for his people, just like Victor Jara. He was to us what Bob Dylan had been to the American civil rights movement: a reminder that music is a tool for change rather than a decorative element.

His famous rendition of ‘Ya Ali’ from ‘Gangster’ caused a stir throughout South Asia. With its spiritual depth and hazy distinctions, it won over hearts outside of Assam. But through all his songs, Zubeen translated political anger into cultural strength, giving people not only words to chant but melodies to carry them forward. His carefree attitude NOT to conform to what some wanted him to be was another act of resistance. This stubborn refusal was a statement of freedom in a state where politics and culture frequently demanded respectability, silence, and obedience.

Six years back, in one of his concerts Zubeen smiled on stage and said: ‘The day I die, all of Assam will have to sing’.

The line was just tossed to the crowd like a challenge or a promise. And that’s exactly what happened. After his death, a newspaper carried those words on its front page. When the news broke, students at Gauhati University gathered. Some stood in silence, some wept and some sang. No slogans, no speeches. He had not only ‘danced with the storms’ he had also written his eulogy in melody. All they had to do was sing!

When mourners numbering in tens of thousands flooded the streets to say goodbye to their much loved musician, Zubeen Garg's funeral also ended up becoming the biggest gathering since Michael Jackson, Queen Elizabeth II and Pope Francis. Even his dogs were brought to Sarusajai Stadium in Guwahati to be with their owner.

It was a heartbreaking moment to see Diya, Rambo, Iko and Maya bid a silent farewell to their Master’s voice, which had suddenly gone quiet. Seeing the sea of mourning, Limca had no option but to enter it into their Book Of Records. He was a frequent visitor to Assam’s wildlife sanctuaries, closely working and taking part in animal release programmes.

During every flood, Zubeen also provided a crucial role in providing relief and rehabilitation for the affected animals. It was no wonder that the authorities of the Kaziranga National Park planted 52 Nahor saplings as a tribute to him. Puhor Siakia, a youth from Lakhimpur, took a heartfelt initiative to announce the planting of a thousand saplings across different parts of Lakhimpur.

Nahor was the favourite tree of the late musician, who contributed positively to environmental conservation. As opposed to most instead, they were brought to Sarusajai Stadium in Guwahati to be with their owner for a final farewell after his death on September 19, 2025

Protest music is a global phenomenon that cuts across national boundaries. Voices like Zubeen’s serve as a reminder to the world that music has the power to break down silence and that art can speak where politics cannot. Of late, we seem to be having a lot of catastrophes to choose from. If only every scream could be heard by the rest of the nation. If only every feeble cry could be heard by the rest of the world. If only each of the calamity was spoken of in the same tone; with the same fervour; and in the same language that Zubeen Garg spoke- the language of resistance. The language of Nature. The language of Love.

The night before he died, in a small Singapore bar, Zubeen stepped up behind the in-house singer, rested a hand on her chair, took the mike, and sang ‘Tears in Heaven.’ No drama. It was just a plain song- about loss and love and the hope of meeting again. Perhaps saying a soft goodbye in his own way.

Rest in Peace Zubeen Garg. Your voice will never stop reminding the world that music can also become one of the most resilient forms of resistance. You were a legend and legends never die!

Latest News