Zubeen Garg: The Voice of Assam,

Zubeen Garg: The Voice of Assam,

About :

Born on 18th November 1972.

Died on 19th September 2025.

At the age of 52 Years.

When someone who has carried the voice of entire generations departs, what lingers is more than songs. It is an echo of their essence — the hope, the joy, the sorrow, the rebellion, the love their music gave people. Zubeen Garg was all that and more. Born Zubeen Borthakur on November 18, 1972, in Tura, Meghalaya, he grew to become one of the most influential, prolific, and emotionally resonant artists from Assam, whose works bridged languages, geography, and culture.

On September 19, 2025, Zubeen Garg passed away at the age of 52 in a tragic scuba-diving accident in Singapore. His departure has left a void in Indian music, especially for those in the Northeast, where his songs were a pulse, a companion, a mirror. But even now, his life’s journey continues to teach, inspire, and heal.

Early Life: Roots, Influence and First Steps

Zubeen was born into a family where poetic and musical sensibilities were in the air. His father, Mohini Borthakur, known by his pen-name Kapil Thakur, was a magistrate but also a poet. His mother, Ily Borthakur, was a singer. The environment was rich, nurturing, full of both words and melodies.

Growing up, Zubeen spent time in various places including Arunachal Pradesh. These moving, early years allowed him to absorb multiple cultural influences and dialects. He was named “Zubeen” after the conductor Zubin Mehta — a small detail, but one that foreshadowed how music would define his identity.

His early exposure to Assamese culture, poetry, folk music, and the rhythms of daily life in the villages and towns of Assam shaped him deeply. He dropped out of college to focus on music — a decision that many worry about, but in his case, proved to be the turning point for a remarkable career.

The Rise: Music, Languages, and the Many Faces of Zubeen

From early Assamese albums to national fame, Zubeen’s career is marked by versatility. He sang in Assamese, Bengali, Hindi, and dozens of other Indian and regional languages — more than 40 dialects in all. His genres spanned folk, pop, film songs, classical touches, rock, and more.

One of his earliest superhits was Maya (1994), which resonated with the Assamese audience in a new way. The raw emotion, the gentle rebellion in lyrics, and the fresh musical treatment made people stop, listen, and feel. Over time, songs like Ya Ali in the Bollywood film Gangster: A Love Story brought him recognition across India.

But it was not just about big hits. Part of his strength was in staying close to his roots — singing folk, local songs, expressing Assamese identity. Whether in tea gardens, villages, at festivals like Bihu, where his voice became inseparable from celebration, or in moments of protest and grief, he was there. His songs often carried deeper meanings, stories of longing, loss, joy, identity, belonging.

The Voice of Protest, Compassion, Identity

Zubeen Garg was no stranger to controversy. But controversy does not define him — rather, it illustrates his unwillingness to stay silent. He spoke out on political issues: during the Anti-CAA protests, for example, he took a stand. He also engaged in social work: during floods in Assam, he urged people to donate, contributed himself, and used his platforms for relief.

He once offered his house in Guwahati as a COVID-19 care centre when the pandemic peaked. These acts show that for Zubeen, music was not just entertainment. The songs mattered, but also what one does with one’s influence, how one shows up in crisis. His identity as Assamese was central — he carried it proudly, not as a banner, but as part of his voice, his lyric, his musical choices.

The Many Songs, the Many Listeners

An astonishing part of Zubeen’s legacy is in sheer output and reach. Over thousands of songs, recordings in tens of languages, plus his contributions as composer, music director, actor, producer — he was always busy, always creating.

He made music for both the big stage and the small intimate moments: weddings, journeys on dusty roads, heartbreaks, the first stirrings of love, of grief. People recall sitting around tape recorders, playing his cassettes Maya, Anamika, Pakhi, waiting for each song, dissecting the lyrics, feeling them. He transformed ordinary moments into poems.

His voice had that quality: it could carry rebellion, softness, longing, humour — sometimes all in one song. And that versatility made him beloved by people who otherwise might not have considered themselves fans of modern pop music. He belonged to many.

Bollywood and Beyond: Crossing Borders, Gaining Voices

While rooted in Assam, Zubeen’s talent crossed into Bollywood and into the broader music world. Ya Ali was one of the songs that brought him pan-India recognition. His singing, when it entered Bollywood films, carried with it a flavor of Northeast India — not just as exotic accent, but as emotional depth, as poetry.

Celebrities from other states expressed profound sadness at his death — Pritam, Vishal Dadlani, Armaan Malik, among others — testifying to the fact that he was not just a regional star but an artist whose work impacted many.

Awards & Recognition: National and International

Over his three-decade career, Zubeen Garg received numerous awards and honors that reflected his unmatched contribution:

• National Film Award (2007) – Best Music Direction for the film Echoes from the Hills.
• Global Indian Music Award (2010) – Best Playback Singer for Ya Ali.
• Filmfare Award (East) – Multiple wins for Assamese and Bengali songs.
• Assam State Film Awards – Winner in categories of Best Music Director, Best Male Playback Singer.
• Prag Cine Awards (Northeast) – Lifetime Achievement and multiple yearly awards.
• International Assamese Diaspora Award (UK, 2016) – For cultural promotion of Assam.
• Honoured in USA and UAE during Northeast India cultural festivals.

These awards reflect not only his artistry but his role as a cultural bridge-builder

The Tragic End: Loss of an Era

The news of Zubeen Garg’s passing came as a shock. He was in Singapore for the Northeast India Festival. During a scuba diving session, he experienced breathing difficulty, was rushed to the hospital (Singapore General Hospital), but could not be saved. He died around 2:30 pm IST.

His death has sent ripples of grief: fans, fellow musicians, people who found solace in his voice. Many remember him not just for what he sang, but what he meant. Through him, people felt seen: their stories, their language, their pain, their laughter.

Legacy: What Zubeen Leaves Behind

What does a figure like Zubeen Garg leave behind? Apart from songs (which are many), there are intangible heritages:

1. A Voice for the Marginalised and Local.
   In an industry dominated by certain centers (Bollywood, etc.), Zubeen always remained connected to Assam, to the Northeast. His success showed that being regional does not mean being lesser; that identity and pride enrich art.
2. Cultural Bridge-Builder.
   He made Assamese music accessible to those outside, and he brought influences into Assamese music in turn. That cross-pollination enriched both.
3. Boldness in Choices.
   Whether controversies, political stands, experiments with genre, or linguistic diversity, he accepted risks. He didn’t always conform. That boldness inspired many younger artists to explore without fear.
4. Emotional Honesty.
   Many of his songs feel raw, personal. When he sang of love, heartbreak, injustice, grief — listeners believed him. That authenticity is rare.
5. Prolific Output.
   His body of work across 30+ years is massive: albums, film songs, folk, independent music. It means that for different eras of listeners, there is Zubeen. For those who grew up in the 90s, there is Maya. For later generations, his newer songs. For Bollywood listeners, Ya Ali, etc. That layered archive ensures he will be discovered anew.

Reflections: What Loss Feels Like

For Assam, and for the Northeast, and for those who see their region under-represented in mainstream Indian culture, Zubeen Garg’s passing feels like the closing of a chapter. But also, it reminds us of how much more needs to be done: for stories, languages, music, art from the Northeast to be nurtured, cherished, and given platforms.

There is also grief in the everyday corners: people hearing his voice on radio, remembering a wedding song, a long-drive playlist, a concert. Music becomes memory. As EastMojo wrote, many of us grew up waiting for his cassette drops, discussing his lyrics line by line, internalizing them.

His controversies also mattered — not to tarnish him, but to humanize him. The mistakes, the statements, the bold stands — they show a man grappling with identity, faith, power, and responsibility. And that too is part of his story.

Conclusion: The Eternal Song

Zubeen Garg is gone, but his music isn’t. Songs don’t just fill sound waves — they fill spaces in our lives: the hope when things are dark, the joy when simple moments are beautiful, the defiance when injustice looms. In Assam’s paddy fields, in the crowded streets of Delhi, in the headphones of someone far away, his voice lives on.

He taught us that being local can be universal; that authenticity matters. He showed us the power of voice — not only singing well, but speaking truth, carrying culture, taking risks.

Even in grief, there is gratitude: for every song, every concert, every moment he allowed us to feel alive. A lot of artists sing, but few can become a condition of being (as some fans say of Zubeen in Assam). That is his gift.

About :

When someone who has carried the voice of entire generations departs, what lingers is more than songs. It is an echo of their essence — the hope, the joy, the sorrow, the rebellion, the love their music gave people. Zubeen Garg was all that and more. Born Zubeen Borthakur on November 18, 1972, in Tura, Meghalaya, he grew to become one of the most influential, prolific, and emotionally resonant artists from Assam, whose works bridged languages, geography, and culture.

On September 19, 2025, Zubeen Garg passed away at the age of 52 in a tragic scuba-diving accident in Singapore. His departure has left a void in Indian music, especially for those in the Northeast, where his songs were a pulse, a companion, a mirror. But even now, his life’s journey continues to teach, inspire, and heal.

Early Life: Roots, Influence and First Steps

Zubeen was born into a family where poetic and musical sensibilities were in the air. His father, Mohini Borthakur, known by his pen-name Kapil Thakur, was a magistrate but also a poet. His mother, Ily Borthakur, was a singer. The environment was rich, nurturing, full of both words and melodies.

Growing up, Zubeen spent time in various places including Arunachal Pradesh. These moving, early years allowed him to absorb multiple cultural influences and dialects. He was named “Zubeen” after the conductor Zubin Mehta — a small detail, but one that foreshadowed how music would define his identity.

His early exposure to Assamese culture, poetry, folk music, and the rhythms of daily life in the villages and towns of Assam shaped him deeply. He dropped out of college to focus on music — a decision that many worry about, but in his case, proved to be the turning point for a remarkable career.

The Rise: Music, Languages, and the Many Faces of Zubeen

From early Assamese albums to national fame, Zubeen’s career is marked by versatility. He sang in Assamese, Bengali, Hindi, and dozens of other Indian and regional languages — more than 40 dialects in all. His genres spanned folk, pop, film songs, classical touches, rock, and more.

One of his earliest superhits was Maya (1994), which resonated with the Assamese audience in a new way. The raw emotion, the gentle rebellion in lyrics, and the fresh musical treatment made people stop, listen, and feel. Over time, songs like Ya Ali in the Bollywood film Gangster: A Love Story brought him recognition across India.

But it was not just about big hits. Part of his strength was in staying close to his roots — singing folk, local songs, expressing Assamese identity. Whether in tea gardens, villages, at festivals like Bihu, where his voice became inseparable from celebration, or in moments of protest and grief, he was there. His songs often carried deeper meanings, stories of longing, loss, joy, identity, belonging.

The Voice of Protest, Compassion, Identity

Zubeen Garg was no stranger to controversy. But controversy does not define him — rather, it illustrates his unwillingness to stay silent. He spoke out on political issues: during the Anti-CAA protests, for example, he took a stand. He also engaged in social work: during floods in Assam, he urged people to donate, contributed himself, and used his platforms for relief.

He once offered his house in Guwahati as a COVID-19 care centre when the pandemic peaked. These acts show that for Zubeen, music was not just entertainment. The songs mattered, but also what one does with one’s influence, how one shows up in crisis. His identity as Assamese was central — he carried it proudly, not as a banner, but as part of his voice, his lyric, his musical choices.

The Many Songs, the Many Listeners

An astonishing part of Zubeen’s legacy is in sheer output and reach. Over thousands of songs, recordings in tens of languages, plus his contributions as composer, music director, actor, producer — he was always busy, always creating.

He made music for both the big stage and the small intimate moments: weddings, journeys on dusty roads, heartbreaks, the first stirrings of love, of grief. People recall sitting around tape recorders, playing his cassettes Maya, Anamika, Pakhi, waiting for each song, dissecting the lyrics, feeling them. He transformed ordinary moments into poems.

His voice had that quality: it could carry rebellion, softness, longing, humour — sometimes all in one song. And that versatility made him beloved by people who otherwise might not have considered themselves fans of modern pop music. He belonged to many.

Bollywood and Beyond: Crossing Borders, Gaining Voices

While rooted in Assam, Zubeen’s talent crossed into Bollywood and into the broader music world. Ya Ali was one of the songs that brought him pan-India recognition. His singing, when it entered Bollywood films, carried with it a flavor of Northeast India — not just as exotic accent, but as emotional depth, as poetry.

Celebrities from other states expressed profound sadness at his death — Pritam, Vishal Dadlani, Armaan Malik, among others — testifying to the fact that he was not just a regional star but an artist whose work impacted many.

The Tragic End: Loss of an Era

The news of Zubeen Garg’s passing came as a shock. He was in Singapore for the Northeast India Festival. During a scuba diving session, he experienced breathing difficulty, was rushed to the hospital (Singapore General Hospital), but could not be saved. He died around 2:30 pm IST.

His death has sent ripples of grief: fans, fellow musicians, people who found solace in his voice. Many remember him not just for what he sang, but what he meant. Through him, people felt seen: their stories, their language, their pain, their laughter.

Legacy: What Zubeen Leaves Behind

What does a figure like Zubeen Garg leave behind? Apart from songs (which are many), there are intangible heritages:

1. A Voice for the Marginalised and Local.
   In an industry dominated by certain centers (Bollywood, etc.), Zubeen always remained connected to Assam, to the Northeast. His success showed that being regional does not mean being lesser; that identity and pride enrich art.
2. Cultural Bridge-Builder.
   He made Assamese music accessible to those outside, and he brought influences into Assamese music in turn. That cross-pollination enriched both.
3. Boldness in Choices.
   Whether controversies, political stands, experiments with genre, or linguistic diversity, he accepted risks. He didn’t always conform. That boldness inspired many younger artists to explore without fear.
4. Emotional Honesty.
   Many of his songs feel raw, personal. When he sang of love, heartbreak, injustice, grief — listeners believed him. That authenticity is rare.
5. Prolific Output.
   His body of work across 30+ years is massive: albums, film songs, folk, independent music. It means that for different eras of listeners, there is Zubeen. For those who grew up in the 90s, there is Maya. For later generations, his newer songs. For Bollywood listeners, Ya Ali, etc. That layered archive ensures he will be discovered anew.

Reflections: What Loss Feels Like

For Assam, and for the Northeast, and for those who see their region under-represented in mainstream Indian culture, Zubeen Garg’s passing feels like the closing of a chapter. But also, it reminds us of how much more needs to be done: for stories, languages, music, art from the Northeast to be nurtured, cherished, and given platforms.

There is also grief in the everyday corners: people hearing his voice on radio, remembering a wedding song, a long-drive playlist, a concert. Music becomes memory. As EastMojo wrote, many of us grew up waiting for his cassette drops, discussing his lyrics line by line, internalizing them.

His controversies also mattered — not to tarnish him, but to humanize him. The mistakes, the statements, the bold stands — they show a man grappling with identity, faith, power, and responsibility. And that too is part of his story.

Conclusion: The Eternal Song

Zubeen Garg is gone, but his music isn’t. Songs don’t just fill sound waves — they fill spaces in our lives: the hope when things are dark, the joy when simple moments are beautiful, the defiance when injustice looms. In Assam’s paddy fields, in the crowded streets of Delhi, in the headphones of someone far away, his voice lives on.

He taught us that being local can be universal; that authenticity matters. He showed us the power of voice — not only singing well, but speaking truth, carrying culture, taking risks.

Even in grief, there is gratitude: for every song, every concert, every moment he allowed us to feel alive. A lot of artists sing, but few can become a condition of being (as some fans say of Zubeen in Assam). That is his gift.