Heartthrob Zubeen Garg and the Voice of Courage: Dulu Ahmed’s Stand for Peace and Legacy
Heramba Nath
Assam stands today in a silence that feels heavier than any storm. A silence that breathes sorrow, disbelief, and helplessness. A silence that belongs to millions of hearts mourning the loss of one man whose voice had become the heartbeat of a civilisation. The land that once swayed to his rhythms now trembles in stillness. The air that once echoed his melodies now hums only memories. The man who gave Assam its most recognisable sound — Heartthrob Zubeen Garg — has departed from this mortal world, leaving behind an emptiness that no word can fill.
His passing is not just the death of an artist; it is the end of an era. For decades, Zubeen Garg had been the bridge between generations. He was the language of love for the young, the anthem of rebellion for the restless, and the melody of nostalgia for the old. His music carried the pulse of Assam itself — its beauty, its struggle, its joy, and its longing. When he sang, the Brahmaputra seemed to listen. When he performed, the skies of Assam felt alive. Today, that very sky looks dim, as if even the heavens mourn the loss of their favourite son.
In moments like these, grief becomes collective. It no longer belongs to individuals but to the soul of the land. People from every district, every town, and every community have felt the ache as their own. In tea gardens, villages, and cities alike, there is one name that trembles through every whisper — Zubeen. He was not just a singer; he was the embodiment of an Assamese identity that transcended religion, caste, and region. His art stood as a reminder that music is the highest form of unity. It dissolves boundaries and speaks to the truth of the human heart.
Yet amidst this ocean of mourning, there has emerged another name — Dulu Ahmed — a name that now carries the fragrance of courage and conscience. In a time when the grief of a people could easily descend into chaos, when emotions could overtake reason, it was Dulu Ahmed who stood tall to remind everyone of what true love and respect mean. His voice did not rise in anger but in calm conviction. He spoke not for himself, but for peace. He stood not for fame, but for dignity — for the dignity of the man whom he, like countless others, loved deeply.
According to several reports, a few unruly youths — who cannot be called true admirers — had begun disturbing the peace at Heartthrob Zubeen Garg’s resting place. Some, in acts of deep irresponsibility, arrived under the influence of alcohol, disturbing the sacred tranquillity of the ground where Assam’s beloved son rests in eternal silence. What could have been a space of prayer and remembrance was momentarily shadowed by disrespectful behaviour. It was at this fragile juncture that Dulu Ahmed stepped forward, appealing to the conscience of society. His message was simple but profound: that love must not become chaos, that mourning must not become disorder, that Zubeen Garg’s resting place must remain sacred — untouched, undisturbed, and unviolated.
In the history of a grieving people, there are moments that define moral clarity. Dulu Ahmed’s voice was one such moment. He reminded us all that love without discipline becomes noise, that faith without respect becomes hypocrisy. His action may seem simple, yet it carries the weight of Assamese cultural wisdom — the belief that the dead must be honoured not with commotion, but with silence; not with spectacle, but with serenity. His courage was not loud, but dignified. In a world that often celebrates aggression, his quiet insistence on peace stands as a lesson in moral strength.
In an age of social media outrage, where emotions are displayed more than they are felt, his message cut through the noise. It was not about himself, nor about politics. It was about humanity — about preserving the sacred memory of a man who had given his entire life to art and people. It was about understanding that devotion is not measured in words or gestures, but in conduct. When someone like Zubeen Garg departs, the truest tribute is not in our tears, but in how we protect his legacy.
Assam must realise that Zubeen Garg’s resting place is not just a site of mourning — it is a shrine of Assamese civilisation. It symbolises the confluence of music, culture, and identity. Every admirer who visits that ground must come as one enters a temple — with folded hands, with silence in heart, and with prayer in soul. They must walk softly, speak gently, and feel deeply. For the soil there is no longer ordinary; it cradles the remains of a man who was a melody himself.
Heartthrob Zubeen Garg’s life was a story written in music and emotion. He was a rare blend of rebellion and tenderness. His songs carried both the rage of a reformer and the affection of a lover. In him, Assam saw not just a performer, but a philosopher — a man who questioned, who dreamed, and who cared. He was fearless in voice, yet gentle in heart. He sang about rivers, love, rain, and pain — about the ordinary lives that often go unnoticed. He gave those unheard hearts a rhythm, those untold stories a song.
His art was his protest against monotony and mediocrity. He belonged to that rare tribe of artists who lived entirely for their calling. Music for him was not entertainment; it was existence. He often said that art must speak truth — even when the world is not ready to listen. And he did exactly that. His life was his message, and that message continues to echo even in his absence.
It is precisely because of this that Dulu Ahmed’s action becomes so significant. To defend the peace of such a soul’s resting place is to defend the dignity of Assamese culture itself. It is not merely an act of social responsibility; it is an act of devotion. Dulu Ahmed did not act out of compulsion or fear; he acted out of love. His faith in the Indian Constitution, his respect for all religions, and his broad humanism make his gesture shine even brighter. In him, we see a reflection of that inclusive spirit which Zubeen himself celebrated through his art.
But Dulu Ahmed’s courage did not stop there. Moved by a profound sense of justice and moral duty, he took another step that will be remembered as an act of conscience. He wrote a letter to Heartthrob Zubeen Garg’s wife, Garima Saikia Garg, urging her to lodge an FIR with the Singapore Police to seek clarity and truth about the circumstances surrounding the beloved artist’s untimely demise. The letter was not an expression of suspicion; it was an appeal for truth. It was written with deep respect and emotional responsibility — a reflection of his belief that every question must meet an answer so that peace may rest upon truth, not uncertainty.
In that letter, Dulu Ahmed’s words carried the silent voice of millions of Assamese hearts that still ache for understanding. He reminded Garima Saikia Garg — with utmost empathy and respect for her unbearable loss — that seeking justice is not an act of defiance but of devotion. It is not about reopening wounds but about ensuring that the soul of the departed rests without the shadow of doubt. His call for an FIR in Singapore was a reflection of the people’s faith in transparency, their desire for closure, and their eternal love for Zubeen.
Such a gesture, made without personal gain or political motive, stands as an extraordinary act of courage. It was born purely out of love — a love that refuses to be silent in the face of uncertainty. Dulu Ahmed has shown that true admirers are not those who only weep; they are those who stand up for truth, even when grief is overwhelming. By writing that letter, he gave moral shape to the unspoken sorrow of a generation that refuses to let doubt eclipse devotion.
In a time when society is often fragmented by divisions and intolerance, this act of selfless responsibility stands as a reminder that humanity still breathes among us. He did not look at communities or identities; he looked at conscience. His message was universal: to preserve peace, to respect the departed, and to honour art. In this lies the true meaning of Assamese ethos — an ethos that believes in harmony, respect, and coexistence.
The grief over Heartthrob Zubeen Garg’s demise is beyond measure. But grief must also teach us something. It must remind us that the living have a duty to protect the sacredness of memory. When we fail to do that, we fail not only the person we loved but also the values they stood for. Zubeen Garg always believed in decency, kindness, and humanity. His songs taught us to care for others, to stand up for truth, to love without boundaries. If we disturb his resting place with noise and disorder, we betray the very message of his life.
That is why voices like Dulu Ahmed’s matter. They hold up a mirror to society and ask — what kind of admirers are we if we cannot show respect in grief? True devotion is not measured in volume; it is measured in discipline. To stand silently by his grave, to bow with tears in our eyes and prayers in our hearts — that is love in its purest form.
Assam owes a deep gratitude to Dulu Ahmed for reminding us of this. In him, we see the moral courage that the times demand. While others mourned in passion, he mourned in principle. While others expressed love in noise, he expressed it in silence. He showed that to truly honour someone like Heartthrob Zubeen Garg is to embody the values he stood for — peace, respect, inclusiveness, and compassion.
Zubeen Garg’s passing has shaken not only the world of music but the conscience of a generation. His absence feels like a wound that will never heal. Yet his presence lingers — in every melody that floats through the air, in every heart that beats to his rhythm, in every person who ever found solace in his voice. He is gone from sight, but he will never be gone from Assam’s soul. He has become immortal, not in marble or monument, but in memory.
As the days pass, the initial cries of grief will fade, but the responsibility to guard his legacy will remain. That responsibility lies with every admirer, every citizen who feels pride in being Assamese. It is our duty to ensure that his resting place remains a sanctuary of peace — not a stage of commotion. It should be a place where even the wind whispers softly, carrying prayers instead of noise.
History remembers not only the great artists but also those who protected their memory. Just as followers once guarded the shrines of saints and poets, Assam too must protect the resting place of its musical saint. The tears of today must become the discipline of tomorrow.
In a world losing its sense of reverence, Dulu Ahmed’s voice stands as a moral lighthouse. His courage reminds us that even in grief, one must not lose grace. He has done what many could not — he turned sorrow into reflection. And that is perhaps the greatest tribute one can offer to a departed legend.
Heartthrob Zubeen Garg will forever remain the melody of Assam. His art was born from love and will continue to inspire love. The most sacred duty now is to preserve that love in its purest form — through peace, through dignity, through remembrance.
When the winds blow softly through the trees near his resting place, one can almost imagine his voice humming in the distance — reminding us once more that true music never dies. It only changes its form, from sound to silence, from presence to memory.
And as long as Assam remembers him with the same purity that Dulu Ahmed has shown, Heartthrob Zubeen Garg will remain alive — in every heart, in every home, in every prayer that begins and ends with love.