Nikunja Nath

Spring is back again. Foxtail orchids are in full bloom, the cuckoos singing in joy, the soft breeze drifts through the fields, and the sounds of ‘dhol-pepa’ (drum and pipe) ranting the air of Assam in the distance. Nature, as always, keeps its promise. This is the time of Assam’s biggest festival Bohag (Baishak) Bihu, aka Rongali (Joyful) Bihu.

 But this time … something is missing. The air feels heavier. The colours seem faded. The laughter that once erupted effortlessly across Assam now trembles, as if unsure of itself. Bohag has arrived, but not the way we remember it. Not the way we felt it.

Bohag has come without the Assam’s beloved artiste and the heartthrobe of the young generat Zubeen Garg. And, Assam does not know how to celebrate without its him!

Everyone in Assam finds it difficult to believe in that harsh reality. Every moment, the people feel Zubeen da’s absence, whom, they lost on September 19. Bihu without Zubeen Garg is not only unacceptable but also unimaginable for the people of Assam.

A frenzied crowd at Zubeen Garg's Bihu concert

How will Assam celebrate this Bihu? Without the one who loved Assam and Assamese more than his life, whose electrifying voice made Bihu pandals lively night after night, Bihu is indeed empty, quiet and frozen. It is rather tormenting to celebrate Bihu without Zubeen Garg!

Zubeen Garg was not merely an artiste, he was an institution. The vast canvas of Assam’s art and culture is incomplete without him.

There was a time when Bihu nights were electric — when playgrounds transformed into seas of humanity, swaying, waiting, holding their breath for one voice. And then he would arrive. Not just as a singer, not merely as a performer — but as a storm, a fire, a festival in himself. His presence on every Rongali Bihu stage was a frenzy. Lakhs of fans would spend sleepless nights just for a line sung by him.

Zubeen was not part of Bihu. He was Bihu.

His voice did not just echo through microphones — it lived in the soil, in the river, in the mountains, in every Assamese heart. When he sang, the night awakened. Sleep was forgotten. Time stood still. And now… there is silence!

Cover of Zubeen Garg's Bihu Album 

The stages will still be illuminated this year. Lights will glow, dancers will sway with grace, and the tunes of the pepa will rant in the night sky. The timeless songs he once sang — ‘Oi Nahar Fular Botahe…’, ‘Janmani Oi Akaskhan Dhuniya…’, ‘Maya, Maya Mathu Maya…’, ‘Mayabini Ratir Bukut …’, ‘Kar Paras Kar Subas…’ or ‘Hunere Sajuwa Poja…’ — will be sung again. But, never in his voice.

And that is where the emptiness lies. A void so deep, no melody can fill it.

How do you celebrate Bohag when the voice that defined it is gone? How do you welcome spring when the very soul of its joy has fallen silent? This is not just grief. It is unbelievable.

The frenzy of his voice singing from the stage ‘Ejak Borokhone Muk Dhui Thoi Gol…’ when it rains on spring nights will be missed. There will be no one to spread the message of humanity from the stage like he said ‘Mur Kunu Jati Nai, Mur Kunu Dharma Nai, Moi Mukta, Moi Kanchenjuga… (I’ve no caste, I’ve no religion, I’m free, I’m Kanchenjunga…)’. Everybody will miss the joy of Bihu he used to spread across the length and breadth of Assam.

Zubeen Garg during his Bihu concert

For many, it still feels impossible to believe that the man who made Assam sing has himself become a memory. That the voice that once carried us through countless nights now lives only in echoes.

For Assam, Bihu was all but Zubeen, at least for the present generations. And, without him, Bihu this time is no less than mourning. Many Bihu celebration committees have decided to celebrate the festival as a low key affair this time as a tribute to the nature-loving, environmentalist, humanitarian, philanthropist artiste. Many others across the state have dedicated their Bihu stages -- adorned with not just lights, but with posters and banners of his face as quiet tribute – to the beloved artiste. Some artistes have also announced that they will step onto the stages this year without fee, carrying only one offering — their love for Zubeen Garg.

Because how do you take money for celebrating something that now feels like mourning?

And yet… somewhere, his words return to us like a whisper in the wind: “Life should go on. The world waits for none.”

Zubeen’s close friend and musician Partha Pratim Goswami has shared his own feelings when he said: “Zubeen had always said ‘Life should go on. The world waits for none.’ He always wanted cultural shows to continue. Sorrows and emotions are every individual’s personal feelings, none can explain those to others. Everyone in Assam is sad today. But, we will have to move on amidst the sorrow. We will have to take forward what Zubeen loved to do.”

Zubeen Garg's funeral procession

His fellow musician Raja Baruah also shared his feelings saying: “I just can’t believe Zubeen is no more with us. I always feel he is with us. But, we feel his absence when we take the stage to perform. Zubeen Garg was really a Rockstar, something which was never talked about in his lifetime. He always loved to do something new, talked about new things and loved to be playful all the time.”

Perhaps Zubeen knew this day would come. Perhaps he prepared us, in the only way he could.

So Assam stands at a crossroads — tears in its eyes, but rhythm still in its veins. Even in his absence, he is everywhere; in every trembling not; in every restless night; In every heart that still waits, hoping to hear his voice one more time.

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This Bohag is different. It is quieter. It is lonelier. It is unbearably still. But it is also proof of how deeply one man could touch an entire land.

 Zubeen is gone. But he is not lost.

 As long as Bohag returns…

As long as Assam breathes…

As long as there is a song waiting to be sung…

 He will live on.