How Zubeen Garg Became Heartbeat of a Generation… My Generation

I don’t remember when I started listening to Zubeen Garg. His voice has been around for as long as memory serves. Back then, listening to him was like a process, just like growing up, and we don’t tend to remember processes—only the moments that remind us of a change. And Zubeen Garg never changed.

With long, dense curls reaching his shoulders, dark shades, and an open-buttoned shirt or a round neck tee, the pictures of Garg on his old album covers reflected not only an indie-pop outlook but also the attitude and aura behind the style. His style was casual but still a choice, for it represented his personality. It evolved over time and became more "Zubeen-like," but it never changed. So too was his approach to life.

A singer, songwriter, composer, music director, poet, actor, and filmmaker, Zubeen Garg was a sensation like no other. Popularly known as the heartthrob of Assam, Garg rose to fame in the early and mid-nineties with his albums like Chandni Raat, Anamika, and Maya, just to name a few. Since then, he has worked across industries with a career that spans a variety of languages and thousands of songs. Known across India as the terrific voice behind songs like "Ya Ali" (Gangster), "Jaane Kya" (Pyaar Ke Side Effects), "Subah Subah" (I See You), "Dilruba" (Namastey London), and "Jag Lal Lal Lal" (Big Brother), among others, Zubeen sang not only in Assamese but also in Hindi, Bengali, Nepali, and other regional languages.

Zubeen Garg possessed a voice of versatility that effortlessly flowed through every kind of song that he lent his voice to. There is a unique sense of energy and also a lament in everything that he sang, no matter how distant the theme was. His romantic songs were also elegiac, be it "Joli Joli Sai Hua" or "Mayabini"—which has now become a goodbye anthem. And now, his passing has given this lament a meaning and helped his creations achieve their true completeness. Yet in this completeness, we now find ourselves incomplete.

Zubeen Garg defined what it meant to be cool for the ’90s kids like us who looked out for an inspiration. A rebel in his spirit, he didn’t like being caged by any structure or any system of thought and expressed his ideas clearly through songs like "Ami Jen Jantra" or "Diya Ghurai Diya."

But most essentially, his songs represented the aspirations of the millennials, whether it was the angst against the prevailing order or the emotions of everyday life—like hope, love, heartbreak, or grief, or anything in between. His songs provided us with every emotion we didn’t know we needed to feel. Be it as a companion, or as an elder brother, or as a friend, his voice filled a gap in our lives that existed only to be filled by him – first in the audio cassette era, and later in the CD era.

We found our love in "I Love You," heartbreak in "Bisora Morom," loneliness in "Monor Nijanot," and freedom in "Pakhi Pakhi Aei Mon." And these are just a few of his most popular songs; the actual list is endless. We imagined ourselves and often drew our own world from his songs because humming his songs felt like becoming him.

And since then, the world around us has turned, shifted, and changed several times, but Zubeen Garg’s voice was always a constant. In a way, his recorded voice defined our generation and raised us like a surrogate guardian. So, beyond every and any denial, we all carried a bit of Zubeen Garg within us — as an idea, as a feeling, or as an emotion. Even if nothing else, then at least the name.

Zubeen Garg passed away on Friday, September 19, 2025, at the age of 52 after a freak accident in Singapore. It was not easy to accept the news for I couldn’t feel sad. It definitely came as a cultural shock, but the absence of sadness meant something deeper. Then I realized, as much as Zubeen existed in our reality, he also lived in our imagination.

It is actually true for all singers, who are often faceless. Sometimes their voice comes through the radio or the cassette player, and at other times as the playback voice of film stars. And that’s what singers are. They can exist even when they don’t. And that’s why it still feels like Zubeen Garg is all well and alive… somewhere.

Moreover, as a socially conscious being, Zubeen Garg was always out there, being active, being visible, and being present and alive. In the almost-four prime decades of his life, never for once did Zubeen Garg become irrelevant for Assam. So how can someone be so alive and be truly gone? A flower garland and an image of Zubeen Garg simply didn’t fit together. There’s an immediate dissonance. It is both true and absurd at the same time.

From our childhood to adulthood, through adolescence and the teenage years - in each phase, Zubeen Garg has meant and represented different things to us, while remaining the same person throughout. From romance and passion to identity and rebellion, he covered a wide range with his art and activism. Somehow, somewhere, we were all fans of him without even realizing it. That’s because Zubeen Garg’s voice did more than just give air to emotions. His voice represented a larger feeling that entertained us and also healed us as a generation.

A heartbroken person can better elaborate how "Mon Jai" can go on for ten minutes straight and still feel like it’s not enough. Take Garg’s rendition of "Ramo Ramo" from Strings - Bound by Faith as an example. There’s a spiritual purity in his devotional songs as well because he sang from the soul. Meanwhile, his slow and sad songs comforted a pain that sometimes didn’t even exist.

However, over the years, things changed and I could find very little connection to his voice, which is why I will not place myself as the biggest fan of his recent works, especially that of his filmmaking choices. But somehow, his cameo in a ridiculously bad film still meant something because his presence defined nostalgia and today, that nostalgia feels bittersweet. Thinking about the past, when Zubeen sang "Ya Ali" for Bollywood and dominated the charts in 2006, it felt like a personal victory - because his voice had always been an essential part of our lives and it made us feel uniquely closer to him and his achievement. And today, it’s a personal feeling again, but this time, it’s a feeling of loss.

And in such a situation of loss, no one can deny the most formative influences in their lives. Influences we don’t even fully recognize until they’re gone. So, this piece is an acknowledgement of such an influence. It is a piece that couldn’t have been written while Zubeen Garg was still alive, but now, with the present being shaped by his absence. But still, it’s not an easy task to put Zubeen Garg into words because he was the truth and also the myth. If it was difficult to make sense of him in his presence, it’s even more difficult now in his absence.

Zubeen Garg gave to us selflessly, but we never thought of him as deeply as his absence has now made us feel. He spoke his mind and lived his wishes. His actions invited both praises and criticism, but he never stopped mattering. The only difference is that, if Zubeen Garg existed in our lives then, he will now reside in our hearts. And that’s what I fear the most - what if our collective memory of him rewrites itself? What if time smooths up the rough edges in him?

Therefore, Zubeen Garg should be remembered for who he was, and who he has always been. He should be remembered not just for his songs or the ideas he stood for, but for the imperfections that made him truly human. Zubeen Garg has always been a man of unpredictability, and he remained so till his last breath.