Assam seeks justice for its Zubeen

A 21-rifle salute crackled over the murmuring and weeping of the sea of mourners as singer Zubeen Garg’s body was consigned to the flames in a small village near Guwahati, the Assam capital which had also been the cultural icon’s home. The last time such an honour was given was to the late Bhupen Hazarika in 2011.

For Zubeen, the state had declared a three-day official period of mourning. As the flames soared, lakhs of fans burst into collective song of his Mayabini.

For that song, as did many of his others, in their very essence, captured not just the superstar’s magic with words but also the chemistry of his unique connect to generations of Assamese and non-Assamese.

In the heart of this magical night,

I can see your face at a distance.

You have quietly crept into a hidden corner of my heart

Like a fresh droplet of dew on my withered mind

Like the bright sunshine

But otherwise, I have danced with the storm for years

I had befriended darkness a long time ago.

As a teenager, Zubeen burst onto the Assamese music scene with his first album. Here was a fresh voice to audiences accustomed to hearing greats like Hazarika with their rich mix of original compositions, interspersed with folk and classical. Here was an exception to the rule, a phenomenon, a storm. He didn’t follow any rules, he ran and performed to his own music, his own story, created his own legend. Think of it: 35,000 songs in about 40 languages — one of them was Ya Ali from Gangster which catapulted him to fame in Bollywood, a place he shunned to return home. And he was just 52.

With his iconic thrust heaven-ward of the mike, he captured a dedicated following, especially among the young who were entranced by his contempt for staid conservatism and prejudice, his flamboyance and use of popular cuss words, his dismissiveness of politics and politicians, his dance moves on stage where he sang with children, his generosity to whoever sought help, his love for animals and trees and incredible accessibility for a star of his stature. Shining through it all was an all-embracing love for Assam, its culture and people which he defended fiercely and proclaimed fully.

Many media commentators and cultural experts outside the region who witnessed the sea of humanity that swept through the streets not just of Guwahati but all towns and villages of Assam, singing and humming his songs, weeping or holding back tears, were shaken and puzzled by the response: what explained his incredible appeal? How did he so embed himself in the hearts and consciousness of his people?

There is not one answer but many and perhaps even after many years we may not be able to put our finger on it. His appeal transcended religion, ethnicity, language and region, which are used by unscrupulous politicians to divide people and fan the flames of hatred and communalism.

By their response to Zubeen, his lyrics, his music and his messages, the people of Assam overwhelmingly affirmed through their mammoth turnout to honour his life, that despite efforts to divide and fracture, his music bound and healed Assam at a time of discord.

His words struck a chord with the young and people of middling age — as well as older — who were struggling to come to grips with an uncertain time, unsafe years, concerned about their future, troubled by the violence and harm, the armed movements and State power which were wrecking their land and societies.

He pulled no punches. When the armed group ULFA (United Liberation Front of Asom) declared a ban on Hindi songs at the Bihu festival celebrations so dear to Assam, he immediately denounced it and said he would not be deterred by such cultural policing. Once on stage, when chided for not wearing the Brahmin sacred thread, he proclaimed in Assamese, “I have no religion, no caste, I am a human being”, to thunderous roars of support and applause from the audience.

He mocked politicians, denounced ministers and once asked Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma who, like him, had been photographed leaping on stage, “Why are you imitating me?” His followers loved his whimsical and wicked sense of humour and no-holds-barred approach. With 1.28 million followers on Instagram and a hold on people’s hearts and minds that far outstripped any political leader’s, he had to be taken very seriously. Though not a politician, Zubeen took significant political positions and spoke of his own belief in socialism. He opposed the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), spoke of how he had once supported the BJP because people hungered for poriborton or change in Assam and sung the election song that powered it to office in the state for the first time in 2016.

When the CAB (Citizenship Amendment Bill which preceded the CAA) was introduced, he snapped at then CM Sarbananda Sonowal, asking him to oppose the law or “return the votes” which the BJP gained as a result of his poll song. In his inimitable style, he declared from a stage that “I don’t care for anyone!” and offered to return the remuneration he had received.

It was not as if he was without shortcomings, issues that he candidly acknowledged. With great popularity and influence comes great vulnerability. Alcohol was a challenge and occasionally he was susceptible to epileptic fits.

My cousin, D’Com Bhuyan, who worked with Zubeen and knew him well, writes of his untamed spirit: “He was relentless. His body bore bruises, his schedule was inhuman, yet he moved with an urgency that was almost divine. Most would have given up, citing fatigue or practicality. But Zubeen would not. He lived in the storm because he was the storm. After one such sleepless shoot, he turned to me, eyes blazing, and said, ‘D’com, life is not meant to be rehearsed. You just play it, again and again, until it makes sense’.”

Zubeen’s medical history makes it surprising, if not appalling, that the North-East’s only superstar was allowed and even encouraged to swim in the open sea during his visit to Singapore for a so-called North-East India Festival. The Singapore police are investigating the circumstances of his drowning. A police inquiry has been ordered in Assam. The state government has also announced the blacklisting of the main organiser, Shyamkanu Mahanta, and “any organisation associated with him from holding any functions or festivals” in Assam. Chief Minister Sarma says the Union government, which has been supporting these festivals, also should stop payments.

Sarma has held the state together at a challenging time with remarkable dignity and calm. There is a powerful image of three persons at the cremation — Zubeen’s wife Garima breaks down inconsolably, while a senior police officer barely holds back his tears and Sarma appears to be in deep pain. There has been a death in every Assamese family.

For once, all politicians were there together, ruling and Opposition, without any of the recent rancour that has characterised state politics.

A major task faces Sarma: how will he handle the growing angry demand from tens of thousands seeking justice for Zubeen, Assam’s restless voice which has been stilled, although his songs and music play on?

Sanjoy Hazarika is an independent journalist.