For us, Zubeen Garg was not just a singer—he was the heartbeat of an entire generation. After the golden touch of Jitul Sonowal, it was Zubeen who brought to us the real essence of modern Assamese music blended with western rhythms. His voice, his compositions, and his melodies became the soundtrack of our youth.
I still remember my student days vividly. Traveling in night buses from Guwahati to Dhemaji, we would halt at midnight in Nagaon, Amoni. The roadside restaurants and tea stalls would always be alive with Zubeen’s evergreen hits—Barasha Jetia Name Bukute, Maya Mathu Maya, Gane Ki Ane, and countless others. Those nights, under the dim lights and the misty air, his music filled our hearts with love, romance, and a sense of belonging.
As a guitarist, I spent endless evenings with my college friends converting Zubeen’s songs into chords and notations. We sang them at freshers’ and farewell parties, hostel music sessions, birthdays, and informal gatherings. His music traveled with us as we grew up, from the innocent days of Anamika to the complexities of midlife. Even today, every note of his songs still stirs the same emotions—love, nostalgia, and a touch of magic.
I never had the fortune of meeting him in person, perhaps because much of my life was spent deep inside the jungles working for conservation. Yet, I carried within me a hidden dream—to one day strum my guitar alongside him. That dream now remains unfulfilled, but the music he gifted us will forever remain alive.
Today, as we bid farewell, my heart whispers his own timeless lines—
“Andhar Hoba Nowaro, Mosi Diba Nokhojo, Pakhi Mela Atitok, Ki Dore Paharo.”
May your soul rest in peace, dear Zubeen. Your songs will keep echoing in our hearts, as eternal as the rivers and hills of Assam.
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