Please don’t do politics over the death of Zubeen Garg
Heramba Nath
The sudden, untimely, and heartbreaking demise of Zubeen Garg has left the soul of Assam shaken. In homes, streets, towns, and villages, there is a silence that carries grief deeper than words can describe. The people of Assam are mourning not merely the death of a singer but the loss of a cultural heartbeat — a son of the soil whose voice echoed through generations. Zubeen was not only an artist; he was a living symbol of the Assamese spirit — vibrant, compassionate, fearless, and profoundly human. His music was not entertainment; it was emotion. His art was not a career; it was a mission. His presence in public life was not about power or position, but about love and connection.
And yet, as the state mourns this irreparable loss, a disturbing tendency has begun to emerge — an attempt by a few to politicise his death, to use his name and legacy for political advantage. This tendency is deeply unfortunate and morally indefensible. It goes against the very essence of who Zubeen was, what he believed in, and what he lived for. His life was a celebration of art beyond ideology, of humanity beyond politics, and of unity beyond division. To involve politics in his death is to misunderstand his spirit and to betray the love that millions of Assamese people felt for him.
Zubeen Garg’s art spoke to the human heart. His music travelled where speeches never reached. In him, people saw themselves — their joys, their sorrows, their dreams, their pride. He became the living expression of Assam’s emotional landscape. When he sang, he gave voice to the silent hopes of ordinary people. When he spoke, he spoke with honesty, simplicity, and courage. And when he stood before the public, he stood as one of them — never above, never apart, but always among. He represented the unity of people, not the interests of politics.
Throughout his life, Zubeen Garg consciously remained away from politics. He knew that political currents often divide, while music unites. He once said clearly and firmly, “Don’t involve politics, friend.” Those words must now be remembered by everyone who claims to respect him. They were not casual remarks; they were the guiding principle of his life. He valued independence of thought, freedom of expression, and purity of emotion. He refused to be confined within the boundaries of political loyalty or ideological labels. His loyalty was only to truth, humanity, and love.
It is therefore painful to witness any attempt to use his name for political propaganda. The grief of the people is sacred. It belongs to no party, no government, no ideology — it belongs only to the human heart. Turning that sacred grief into a platform for political mileage is not only disrespectful but deeply cruel. Assam must not allow such desecration of a man whose entire life was dedicated to harmony and humanity.
Zubeen Garg was a man of the people in the truest sense. He loved them without selfishness, without calculation. He was a friend to the poor, a companion to the struggling, and a supporter of those who had no voice. He belonged equally to every household — to the youth who found courage in his songs, to the elderly who found solace in his melodies, and to the children who grew up humming his tunes. He represented a bond between generations, a thread that connected hearts across all divides.
His kindness was innate; his generosity was God-gifted. He never divided people by caste, class, or creed. In a world increasingly fragmented by differences, he lived as a symbol of inclusivity. That inclusivity was not political; it was spiritual. He believed that art is the greatest equaliser — that in music, everyone becomes one. This belief defined his journey and made him beloved by millions.
Zubeen Garg’s artistic capacity was transcendent. His talent went beyond technical brilliance — it was human, soulful, and divine. He was not just a performer; he was a creator who poured his heart into every word and every note. His songs captured the emotions of an entire civilisation, carrying the fragrance of Assamese culture and the heartbeat of its people. He worked with an energy that seemed limitless, a dedication that inspired everyone who came near him.
But what made him truly great was not his fame — it was his humility. He remained simple, approachable, and deeply human. Fame never corrupted him, applause never made him arrogant, and criticism never made him bitter. He lived freely, sang fearlessly, and loved boundlessly. He belonged to everyone and claimed no one. That was the beauty of his soul — and that is why his loss feels so personal to every Assamese heart.
To politicise the death of such a man is to wound the very heart of Assam. It is to take something pure and turn it into something opportunistic. The grief that unites the people must not be poisoned by rhetoric that divides them. His death should be a time of silence, remembrance, and prayer — not a stage for politics or publicity. If anyone tries to exploit his passing for political advantage, it will not honour Zubeen; it will desecrate his legacy.
Every Assamese citizen knows that Zubeen Garg never chased power. He used his voice not to gain influence, but to express truth. He was a free soul who sang what he felt, who stood for love, who believed in peace. His songs were messages of humanity, not slogans of politics. He lived among people, not above them. And that is why his loss has created such deep emptiness — because he was one of us, not a figure distant or privileged.
Assam must now rise above every temptation to divide this grief. His death is not a political event — it is a human tragedy. It belongs to everyone who loved him, irrespective of background or belief. His memory should be honoured through respect, unity, and cultural remembrance — not through partisan display.
All Assamese people should pray for his departed soul. His life was a prayer in itself — a melody of kindness and compassion that resonated across hearts. He gave to everyone without expecting anything in return. He offered his art as service to society. The least society can now do is to remember him in silence and love, without the noise of politics.
Zubeen Garg’s apolitical stance was not a sign of avoidance; it was a conscious, courageous choice. He understood that art and politics are different worlds — one seeks to unite, the other often divides. He chose the path of art because he believed in emotional unity, not ideological supremacy. Every concert he performed, every message he conveyed, carried that same essence of inclusivity. That is the Zubeen Garg whom Assam must honour — not through banners or slogans, but through purity of remembrance.
In moments of great loss, societies reveal their character. The way Assam handles this moment will show whether it values culture over politics, compassion over competition, and unity over division. The people must remember that the greatest tribute to Zubeen is not in words but in actions — in the way they protect his legacy from misuse and his name from being dragged into controversy.
He always lived as a symbol of togetherness. He believed that love is greater than hate, and that art is the truest expression of truth. That philosophy must now guide Assam. His music taught people to heal, not to hurt; to come together, not to separate. Those lessons must not be forgotten in this hour of mourning.
Zubeen Garg’s death is a reminder that great artists do not die — they live through their work, through the values they leave behind. His voice will continue to echo in the hearts of his people. But how Assam remembers him will define the moral strength of the society. Political appropriation will only diminish his grandeur; silent respect will magnify it.
Every citizen, young or old, must remember that Zubeen belonged to all and to none. He stood beyond boundaries, above politics, and beyond the reach of any institution or ideology. He was not a possession of any party; he was the pride of a people. That pride must now express itself through unity and dignity.
Assam’s cultural history is full of artists who shaped its identity — but very few touched its soul as deeply as Zubeen Garg did. He brought joy, courage, and emotional truth to millions. His songs carried a message of humanity, and his life became a lesson in simplicity. Those who loved him must protect his legacy from distortion.
To those who might attempt to twist his death into a political narrative, one message must be clear: Zubeen’s art cannot be used for political convenience. His spirit belongs to the people, and the people will guard it. His name must not be uttered for votes or influence; it must be spoken only in reverence. His music must not be played for attention; it must be listened to in love. His memory must not be used for power; it must be kept alive for peace.
This moment of collective mourning should become a moment of collective introspection. It should remind everyone that cultural icons are not property of politics; they are the conscience of a society. They represent its highest ideals, its most beautiful emotions. When a society begins to politicise its artists, it begins to lose its soul. Assam must never allow that to happen.
The death of Zubeen Garg should bring people closer, not apart. His spirit must inspire humility, not hostility. His legacy must nurture compassion, not competition. Every heart that ever felt his voice must now rise to defend his purity from being tainted by politics.
Zubeen’s music will remain eternal. His smile, his voice, and his fearless individuality will continue to inspire future generations. But his true immortality depends on how Assam chooses to remember him — as an artist of unity, or as a name in controversy. The choice lies with the people.
As the state continues to mourn, there is only one dignified way forward — silence, prayer, and gratitude. All Assamese people should pray for his departed soul and for the peace of his family. His journey was a gift to humanity, and his memory must remain untouched by the noise of politics.
To politicise his death is to betray love. To keep his memory pure is to uphold truth. Zubeen Garg must be remembered as he lived — a man of music, a man of heart, and a man beyond politics.