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Zubeen Garg - Heartthrob of Assam




🎙️ The Voice of a Land: The Life Story of Zubeen Garg


In the cool hills of Tura, Meghalaya, in the autumn of 1972, a child was born into a household where words were poems and silence was music. His parents named him Zubeen — after the world-famous conductor Zubin Mehta — already a sign that the child was destined for melodies beyond boundaries.

Born Zubeen Borthakur, he would later become known as Zubeen Garg — a name that would echo through the valleys of Assam, the streets of Guwahati, and eventually, across India.

His home was a temple of art. His father, Mohini Mohan Borthakur, known as Kapil Thakur, wrote soulful verses, while his mother, Ily Borthakur, filled their home with music. Art wasn’t just admired — it was lived. His sister, Jonkie, was his early companion in music and dreams. Together, they sang. Together, they hoped.

But life doesn’t always hum the tune you expect.



🌱 The Making of a Rebel Musician

As a child, Zubeen learned tabla, sitting cross-legged before his guru. He studied science in college but soon dropped out. Classrooms couldn’t contain him. His stage would be larger — and louder.

In the early '90s, he released his first Assamese album, "Anamika". The region fell in love instantly. People weren’t just listening — they were feeling. His songs captured rain, love, loss, and youth like nothing else had.

Soon, every Assamese home had a cassette with his name on it. Zubeen wasn’t just a singer. He was a voice — of the people, for the people.



🎤 From Guwahati to Bollywood

In 2006, a song called “Ya Ali” from the film Gangster changed everything.

It was raw. It was deep. It was haunting.

Suddenly, millions across India who had never heard of Assamese music were asking: Who is Zubeen Garg?

His voice, carrying pain and passion in equal measure, cut through the noise of Bollywood’s auto-tuned glam. It wasn’t just a hit — it was a moment.

Yet, even in the glitz of national fame, Zubeen never left his roots. He kept singing in Assamese, Bodo, Bengali, Nagpuri, Hindi, and more than 40 languages. He kept making music for the people who first believed in him.


🎬 More Than Music

Zubeen wasn’t made to sit still.

He composed. He acted. He wrote. He directed. His film “Mission China” wasn’t just a box-office hit — it was a statement: that Assamese cinema could be ambitious, stylish, and successful.

He was not just an artist — he was a movement.



🕊️ Grief, Protest, and Purpose

In 2002, Zubeen lost his sister Jonkie in a car crash. It broke him. But out of that grief, he created more art — songs laced with pain, tribute, and the ache of memory. He often said she was still with him, in every note.

Zubeen was also a fierce activist.

He raised his voice during the Anti-CAA protests in Assam. He refused to sing at government events. He returned awards. He stood in protest — not for fame, but for Assam. He once said, "Music is not only for love — it is also for resistance."


🛑 The Last Song

In September 2025, Zubeen was in Singapore, scheduled to perform at a Northeast India cultural festival. But fate had another plan.

He reportedly collapsed near water. Though he was rushed to hospital, he couldn’t be revived.

On 19 September 2025, the music of a generation fell silent.

He was 52.

His body was flown back to Assam. Crowds gathered. Streets overflowed. Even the sky wept.

On 23 September, Zubeen Garg was cremated with full state honors — a man of music, honored like a head of state.



🕯️ A Legacy That Sings

Even in death, Zubeen isn’t gone.

His voice still rings through loudspeakers during Bihu festivals, through headphones during heartbreak, and through the hearts of every artist he inspired.

He gave Assam not just music, but confidence. He proved that a boy from a small town could change how a region feels about itself.

He is remembered not just for "Ya Ali", but for “Mayabini Ratir Bukut,” “Ei Prithibi Ek Krirangan,” “Maya,” “Rimjhim Boroxun”, and thousands more.

Zubeen Garg lived loudly. Loved freely. Sang honestly.

And though the man is gone, the melody remains.


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