From ‘Anamika’ to ‘Ya Ali’: Remembering Zubeen Garg’s timeless journey

There are artists who entertain, and then there are artists who become the very language of a people’s heart. Zubeen Garg belonged to the latter. On September 19, 2025, when news came from Singapore that he had died in a tragic incident at the age of 52, it felt as if an entire generation had lost its voice. Assam did not just lose a musician – it lost a part of its cultural soul.

Born in Jorhat in 1972 to a family steeped in poetry and music, Zubeen’s destiny seemed written early. His mother, a singer, and his father, a poet, filled his childhood with rhythms and words that shaped him long before the world knew his name. By the time he released Anamika in the early 1990s, Assamese music had found its most restless and brilliant son. The album was more than just a collection of songs – it became a lifeline for the youth of that era, who saw their joys, heartbreaks, and longings mirrored in his melodies.

Over three decades, Zubeen recorded an astonishing body of work – tens of thousands of songs in Assamese, Hindi, Bengali, Nepali, and several other languages. His voice travelled from the folk stages of Assam to the grandeur of Bollywood, where his haunting Ya Ali remains unforgettable. And yet, fame never distanced him from his roots. Even as the world celebrated him as a star, he remained Assam’s Zubeen da – the boy who sang Bihu with the same tenderness as when he first began.

But Zubeen was never only a singer. He was a composer, actor, director, philanthropist, and above all, a cultural guardian. He raised funds for flood victims, lent his voice to social causes, mentored young talents, and constantly reminded people that art is not only for applause but also for service. His concerts were not just performances – they were gatherings of solidarity and celebration.

That is why his death feels so personal. Fans across languages and generations are united in grief, not merely because an artist has gone, but because someone who mirrored their own lives in song is no longer here. For many, his voice was the background score to growing up, falling in love, carrying heartbreak, and celebrating festivals. He was woven into the fabric of everyday life.

What remains now is not silence, but memory. His music will continue to echo across Assam’s fields during Bihu, through radios playing softly at dawn, and in the voices of young singers who grew up idolising him. He leaves behind not just songs, but an emotional inheritance – one that will not fade with time.

Garg’s passing has created a void no one can fill. Yet in every note he sang, he gave us a fragment of immortality. He will live on – not only as a musician, but as Assam’s eternal song. His music was never just entertainment; it was emotion, identity, and belonging. His voice will remain forever in the soul of Assam.

Rest in melody, Zubeen Garg – your songs go on.