A Tribute to Zubeen Garg: The Voice of Emotion, Culture, and Compassion
Heramba Nath
When a voice becomes a heartbeat of a people, when a song transforms into collective memory, and when an artist turns into the living symbol of an entire culture, his departure cannot be described merely as the loss of a musician. It is the loss of an era, of a spirit that breathed life into generations. Such is the feeling across Assam and the North East today as the name Zubeen Garg is spoken with reverence, sorrow, and undying love. His passing is not simply the conclusion of a life; it is the beginning of an eternal remembrance that will continue to echo in homes, villages, towns, and hearts wherever Assamese and North Eastern identity is cherished.
Born on 18 November 1972 in Tura, Meghalaya, Zubeen grew up in an atmosphere of rare cultural richness. His father, Kapil Thakur (Mohini Mohon Borthakur), was a writer of distinction whose words reflected the intellectual traditions of Assam, and his mother, Ily Borthakur, was a singer whose voice carried the sweetness and dignity of Assamese music. In such a household, the boundaries between daily life and art dissolved. Music and literature were not external pursuits but part of everyday rhythm. From this environment, young Zubeen inherited a love for melody, poetry, and creative experimentation, seeds that would blossom into one of the most extraordinary cultural journeys the region has ever known.
It is tempting to define him in one role: singer, composer, lyricist, actor, poet, reciter. But none of these alone can contain the enormity of his versatility. Zubeen was all of them at once, and each role was infused with sincerity. His voice was not merely melodious; it carried depth, honesty, and raw emotion. Every note seemed to be dipped in human truth. That is why his songs did not remain confined to the charts or the stage; they became part of people’s personal lives. Lovers, parents, workers, students — all found in his music a mirror of their own feelings.
His literary contribution, though sometimes overshadowed by his fame as a singer, deserves equal recognition. His poetry collection “Shabda Anubhuti” was not just an experiment but a revelation. At the North East Book Fair in Chandmari, Guwahati, it became a bestseller, proof that his audience wanted to hear his words as much as his voice. In its verses, Zubeen opened his heart with lyrical intensity. Readers found themselves immersed in emotions that were personal yet universal — longing, gratitude, love, melancholy, compassion. He proved that poetry still mattered in an age rushing towards modern distractions, that words could still heal, comfort, and inspire.
The poem “Deutar Dore Hua Hole” stands as one of the most powerful testaments to his character. It is not simply about filial love; it is about the sacred bond between generations, about gratitude that transcends time. When Zubeen recited it, the verses acquired a new life. Each syllable carried reverence for parents, each pause conveyed reflection, and each modulation made listeners stop and feel. Those who watched him recite it on stage or heard it on recordings knew they were experiencing not only poetry but devotion. Even today, as it continues to circulate widely online, it invites young people to pause and think of their own parents, to value the sacrifices that so often remain unspoken.
Yet behind the splendour of artistic life lay the shadows of tragedy. In February 2002, his beloved younger sister Jonki (Jongki) Borthakur, a promising actress and singer, died in a car accident in Sonitpur district. She was poised to bring further brilliance to Assamese cinema and music, and her sudden death left an unfillable void. For Zubeen, this was a wound that never fully healed. But his response revealed the resilience of his spirit. Instead of sinking into silence, he transformed grief into creation, releasing the album “Xixhu” in her memory. This was no ordinary musical project; it was a brother’s lament, a public expression of private pain, a way of making mourning collective so that the memory of Jonki could live on in the hearts of thousands. Through this, he showed how art can become the bridge between loss and healing.
Zubeen’s personal life further reflected his devotion to art. His marriage to Garima Saikia Garg, herself a gifted singer, was not merely a personal union but a cultural partnership. Together, they symbolised the harmonious blending of talent, love, and commitment to Assamese music. Garima was not only a supportive partner but also a collaborator in many artistic endeavours, and together they became one of the most admired couples in Assam’s cultural landscape. Their relationship reminded society that art is often nurtured in companionship, that creativity thrives when shared.
In terms of music, Zubeen’s range was astonishing. He sang in Assamese, Bengali, Hindi, and other languages, making him not just a regional icon but a national voice. His ability to slip seamlessly from one language to another displayed not only technical skill but deep respect for cultural diversity. In an India often marked by linguistic boundaries, Zubeen’s voice crossed those barriers with ease, uniting audiences in shared emotion. For Assam, his success outside the state was a source of immense pride, for he carried its cultural identity onto larger stages, reminding the country that the North East was not marginal but central to India’s artistic soul.
But if fame and versatility were all, he would have been remembered merely as a talented artist. What made Zubeen unforgettable was his humanity. Those who knew him closely often described him as someone who could never ignore suffering. He had a quiet generosity towards the poor, the marginalised, and those in distress. His acts of kindness were not done for the camera but out of genuine empathy. In a world where celebrity often brings arrogance, Zubeen’s compassion added moral gravity to his fame. For many, his truest greatness lay not in his songs or poems but in his unshaken concern for others.
His connection with Assamese culture was profound. He drew inspiration from folk traditions, rural rhythms, and local narratives. His work carried the cadence of the Bihu song, the melancholy of folk ballads, the energy of the dhol, the sweetness of traditional instruments. At the same time, he was not afraid to experiment with contemporary genres, ensuring that his work resonated with young people growing up in a fast-changing world. This blending of tradition and modernity gave his artistry a rare timelessness. Older audiences cherished the continuation of heritage; younger audiences felt represented in the freshness of sound. Zubeen became the bridge between past and future.
Even in the digital age, when music consumption has changed dramatically, Zubeen remained relevant. His songs streamed on online platforms, his poetry circulated on social media, his recitations were shared across YouTube and WhatsApp groups. People from far beyond Assam discovered the depth of his artistry through these channels. That global reach brought Assamese culture into conversations it had rarely entered before, giving it visibility on an international stage. Through him, the North East spoke to the world.
The meaning of his legacy lies not in statistics or awards but in emotional truth. Zubeen showed that art is not mere entertainment but the language of compassion, remembrance, and respect. His work often reminded people of duties often forgotten — to honour parents, to grieve the departed, to help the poor, to celebrate culture. His voice carried sincerity that could not be manufactured, and in that sincerity lay his universal appeal.
As the news of his passing spread, tributes flowed in not only from the world of music but from ordinary households, from tea gardens to universities, from cultural organisations to social media platforms. What united them was a sense of personal loss. For people, Zubeen was not a distant celebrity but someone who had been part of their lives. His songs were played at weddings and farewells, in moments of celebration and in times of grief. His poems were read in quiet reflection. His recitations brought families together. He was woven into the everyday fabric of Assamese life.
His absence leaves behind silence, but within that silence are echoes that will not fade. His songs will continue to be sung at gatherings, his poems will continue to be recited in schools and colleges, his voice will continue to echo in headphones and radios. For younger artists, his life will remain a source of inspiration, a reminder that true artistry lies in versatility, sincerity, and compassion.
The cultural journey of Assam will forever bear his imprint. He will be remembered as the son who honoured his parents with heartfelt poetry, the brother who turned grief into music, the husband who built an artistic partnership with Garima Saikia Garg, the poet who wrote from the soul, the singer who carried Assam’s voice to the world, and the human being who never forgot kindness.
As we pay tribute, may we carry forward his values of compassion, respect, and cultural pride. May his soul rest in eternal peace, surrounded by the melodies and verses he created. And may his legacy inspire generations yet to come to believe in the power of art to unite, heal, and uplift.
Zubeen Garg will forever remain the voice of emotion, culture, and compassion — a voice that death cannot silence.