Zubeen Garg: The Cultural Unifier Who Healed Assam's Divided Society

"Nijanor gaan mor Xekh hobo bhabo tumar bukut"

"My song of loneliness will end, I believe, at your heart." - 'Mayabini', by Zubeen Garg.

The profound grief that enveloped Assam and the Northeast following Zubeen Garg's unexpected passing transcends ordinary mourning for a beloved artist. This collective sorrow must be understood against the backdrop of a region characterized by both natural beauty and historical wounds of division, migration, and conflict. Assam's contemporary history has been marked by territorial losses, demographic shifts, political fragmentation, insurgency, and communal tensions. These dynamics have created a perpetual sense of instability and identity uncertainty within Assamese society. In this fragile context, Zubeen's unwavering commitment to inclusivity—his refusal to be defined by caste, religion, or political mandates—was more than artistic eccentricity; it represented a profound political act that helped heal and unify a divided society.

Assam's first major setback occurred in 1947 when it became India's only state subjected to a plebiscite. The Sylhet region's vote to join East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) left Assamese people feeling marginalized and isolated. Following partition and the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War, significant migration into Assam altered demographics and ignited concerns about land ownership, linguistic identity, and political representation. Anti-foreigner movements became central to Assamese politics, often erupting in violence.

As Assam's territory diminished, further divisions led to the creation of Nagaland, Meghalaya, Mizoram, and Arunachal Pradesh. Each separation represented a quest for autonomy, but for Assam, it meant territorial losses and further weakening of an already fragile social fabric. External threats amplified existing insecurities, as demonstrated by China's 1962 incursion into Arunachal Pradesh, which highlighted the region's vulnerability on India's frontier and New Delhi's perceived neglect.

The late 1970s and early 1980s saw the All Assam Students' Union (AASU) leading a mass movement demanding detection and deportation of foreigners. Though the 1985 Assam Accord attempted to address these concerns, fundamental issues remained unresolved, breeding widespread disillusionment. Into this void emerged insurgent groups like the United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA) and the National Democratic Front of Bodoland (NDFB), triggering cycles of violence, counterinsurgency, and fear. Recurring conflicts between various ethnic and religious communities—Garo and Rabha, Bodo and tea-tribe workers, Bodo and Muslim settlers—left legacies of displacement and distrust.

These overlapping uncertainties created a profound societal yearning for stability and peace. This context illuminates Zubeen Garg's significance. His voice transcended the divisions in a state fractured by ethnicity, religion, and politics. His refusal to comply with militant directives, his opposition to controversial policies, and his rejection of caste and religious identification resonated with a populace exhausted by conflict. Zubeen personified what Assamese society craved: unity without erasure, strength without exclusion, and cultural pride without hostility. He embodied this ideal by calling himself "Kanchenjunga"—signifying elevation, unboundedness, and freedom.

In such a fractured landscape, political institutions failed to foster trust or facilitate healing. Instead, cultural expressions—music, cinema, and literature—became the most potent unifying forces, requiring a figure with sufficient charisma, authenticity, and conviction. Zubeen Garg fulfilled this role. He was more than a singer; he embodied Assam's contradictions, aspirations, and defiant spirit. His decision to forgo Bollywood success and return to "the land of mountains and the rivers" contrasted sharply with the exodus of Assamese youth seeking employment and education elsewhere. His music transcended genres and languages, connecting with audiences from rural Assamese villages to major Indian cities and international venues. Beyond his artistic talents, his bold, independent, and fearless personality made him central to Assamese cultural identity.

Zubeen consistently challenged authority—whether political, religious, or militant. He opposed animal sacrifices in temples, potentially disrupting entrenched traditions. He supported protests against the central government's Citizenship (Amendment) Act. He defied ULFA's prohibitions against performing Hindi and Bengali songs during Bihu, Assam's most significant festival, advocating instead for cultural openness and diversity.

His declaration, "I don't have any caste, I don't have any religion, I don't have any God, I am free," perhaps best captured his essence. By rejecting divisive labels, Zubeen projected an image of freedom and elevation reminiscent of the majestic Kanchenjunga mountain.

Zubeen's cultural significance extends beyond album sales or concert attendance. He represented a cultural Kanchenjunga—visible throughout the Northeast, beloved across demographic divides, and transcending political pettiness. His songs about love, protest, and everyday struggles formed the soundtrack of Assamese life.

The unprecedented public mourning following his death brought entire communities to a standstill. Markets, streets, and workplaces fell silent as people from diverse ethnic, linguistic, and religious backgrounds united in grief. This shared sorrow underscores how deeply Zubeen was intertwined with Assam's collective quest for stability and dignity.

Assam's narrative is one of vulnerability—a society repeatedly fragmented and disrupted. Amid this turmoil, Zubeen Garg provided a sense of belonging and resilience through his music and defiance. An artistic innovator, a principled rebel, and above all, a fearless voice of truth for the people.

His absence leaves a void while reminding us that Assam needs more than politicians and bureaucrats. It requires cultural leaders committed to freedom, diversity, and courage. Zubeen's self-identification as "Kanchenjunga" serves as both personal metaphor and public message. In a region where boundaries shift, identities are contested, and peace remains fragile, the Kanchenjunga spirit—elevated, free, and unyielding—must be preserved.

The mourning for Zubeen Garg thus represents more than grief for a departed artist. It signifies the loss of someone who reinforced a vulnerable social fabric, reflects a collective yearning for unity in a historically fractured state, and acknowledges that sometimes a single authentic voice can mean more to a people than decades of political promises.

(Biswanath Sinha is a senior social sector leader, and can be reached at mbiswanath@gmail.com)

Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author