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Zubeen Garg, gone too soon, written by Shanku Sharma

//Shanku Sharma //

Zubeen Garg’s story begins in the hills of Tura, Meghalaya, where he was born on November 18, 1972, to a family already steeped in music and literature. His father, Mohini Mohon Borthakur, a magistrate who wrote poetry under the pen name Kapil Thakur, and his mother, Ily Borthakur, a singer herself, gave him both discipline and melody. From an early age, Zubeen absorbed the sounds around him. He learned classical music, but he also picked up instruments with ease—the tabla, guitar, drums, harmonium, even the dotara. Music was not just something he studied; it was what shaped his identity.

 

After finishing his schooling at Tamulpur Higher Secondary School, he enrolled in B Borooah College in Guwahati, studying science, but it was a short-lived experiment. The pull of music was too strong. By the early 1990s, still in his teens, he released Anamika, his first Assamese album, and suddenly people knew his name.

 

That first breakthrough set the tone for a career that would not stay confined to Assam. By the mid-90s, Zubeen had shifted to Mumbai, chasing opportunities in Bollywood. His big national moment came in 2006 with Ya Ali from the film Gangster. The song was raw, powerful, and unforgettable, and it cemented him in the wider consciousness of India. But unlike many who leave home behind for a larger stage, Zubeen never let go of his Assamese roots. He sang in more than 40 languages and dialects, but he returned again and again to Assamese albums, folk tunes, and regional films. He was as comfortable in a Bollywood studio as he was singing a Bihu song at a local festival.

 

Over the years, he expanded his range. He acted in films, composed music, produced albums, directed projects. He never limited himself to one lane. That restlessness gave his body of work an extraordinary scale—thousands of recordings, live shows across the country, constant experimentation. He played with styles, blending classical with contemporary, fusing folk with pop. It made him unpredictable, sometimes polarizing, but always alive in his art.

 

Recognition followed. He received a National Film Award, state awards, and, just a year before his death, an honorary Doctor of Literature from the University of Science and Technology in Meghalaya. For many in the Northeast, though, awards mattered less than what he symbolized: the idea that talent from Assam could command attention on the national stage without losing its identity.

 

Zubeen was not free from controversy. His bluntness often landed him in trouble. Remarks about caste and religion brought backlash from religious bodies and cultural organizations, and more than once his performances were shadowed by protests. Yet even in those moments, he refused to smooth his edges. He insisted on speaking his mind, for better or worse, and that stubbornness became part of his legend.

 

His life came to an abrupt end on September 19, 2025, in Singapore. He suffered a medical emergency while scuba diving and could not be revived. News of his death sent shockwaves through Assam. Streets filled with mourners. For many, it felt like losing not just an artist, but a voice that carried their identity into places it was too often ignored.

 

Zubeen’s legacy is not simple. He was a symbol of pride for the Northeast, a bridge who carried its music to a national audience. He was also a restless creator who never stopped experimenting, a man whose contradictions made him hard to pin down. Some say he could have been an even bigger Bollywood star if he had left Assam behind, but that was never his choice. He wanted to stay close to his people, to the soil and culture that gave him his voice.

 

What remains now is the music—songs that defined a generation, anthems that will continue to be sung, and the inspiration he gave to younger artists who saw in him a proof of possibility. His story reminds us that art rooted in a particular place can still speak universally, that a boy from Tura could become the heartbeat of Assam, and, for a time, the voice of millions across India.

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