Zubeen Garg becomes the new slogan in Rahul Gandhi–Himanta Biswa Sarma face-off
Zubeen Garg’s death has turned Assam’s grief into election theatre. Six months before polls, his legacy fuels a fierce contest of power and propaganda, where mourning is staged, justice politicised, and the state’s most beloved voice repurposed for partisan gain.

- Oct 17, 2025,
- Updated Oct 17, 2025, 10:52 AM IST
Assam’s political stage has found a new script: the state’s biggest tragedy of this century. The death of Zubeen Garg, the state’s most adored cultural icon, has morphed into a political spectacle, unfolding six months before the assembly elections. When the 52-year-old legend drowned off a yacht in Singapore waters on September 19, few could have predicted that the mourning for a musician would evolve into a contest over memory and manipulation.
Yet as Leader of Opposition in Lok Sabha Rahul Gandhi arrives today in Guwahati, nearly a month after the tragedy, to pay his respects, it becomes clear that Zubeen’s legacy has been conscripted into service for the upcoming assembly elections. Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma has mocked Rahul’s visit, pointing out that the Congress leader was arriving 28 days after Zubeen’s death, long after others had paid their respects. To Rahul’s credit, he was the first national leader to publicly mourn Zubeen’s passing, even before Prime Minister Narendra Modi did. Yet, despite being the only pan India political figure to come and pay respect to Zubeen in person, Rahul’s delayed homage, framed as private, carries unmistakable political overtones. It confirms that Zubeen’s afterlife in Assam’s political imagination could be decisive.
The transformation of grief into public spectacle began almost immediately after Zubeen’s death. The initial confusion over how Zubeen died—paragliding, scuba diving, drowning—triggered a wave of outrage directed at two individuals, the show organiser Shyamkanu Mahanta and Zubeen’s manager Siddhartha Sharma. What began as an emotional outburst quickly turned into a coordinated campaign, largely because of who these men are and how they initially responded to the tragedy, at least in public perception.
Shyamkanu happens to be the brother of two powerful figures: Assam’s Information Commissioner and former DGP Bhaskar Jyoti Mahanta, and Nani Gopal Mahanta, now Vice Chancellor of Gauhati University and until recently the Education Advisor to the Assam government with cabinet rank. Nani Gopal, a batchmate and close associate of Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma, is also ideologically aligned with the RSS and has hosted its chief Mohan Bhagwat twice at his residence in recent times.
Leveraging his powerful family network, Shyamkanu ran a consultancy firm and organised high-profile cultural events such as the Northeast Festival, drawing sponsorships from both state and central governments. Known for his flamboyance, he had also accumulated a fair number of silent adversaries. With Zubeen’s death, those enemies suddenly found their voice, and their target. From here, Zubeen’s death began to resemble not just a tragedy but a parable of power and privilege.
Also Read: Zubeen Garg: God’s Own Child
Chief Minister Sarma was quick to gauge the public mood, and the political potential behind it. Within hours of Zubeen’s death, he was at the forefront, personally receiving the body, singing one of the late musician’s songs before cameras, and presiding over the funeral rites. His tone was both empathetic and managerial, a signal that the state’s most powerful man stood closest to the people’s pain. His calculation was clear: to stay ahead of public sentiment, he had to become its custodian even if it meant declaring himself one of the singer’s “top ten fans.”
When Singaporean authorities ruled out foul play, Sarma echoed their findings. But when public fury grew louder, he changed his script. To ensure the rising Gen Z outrage didn’t turn against him, he ordered a second autopsy and a full-fledged probe into Zubeen’s death. The parallels to recent youth-led upheavals in Bangladesh and Nepal were not lost on the chief minister. On September 25, a mob tried to storm Zubeen’s manager Siddhartha Sharma’s apartment in Guwahati, pelting stones at police before being dispersed by a lathi charge. Sarma urged calm, warning against turning Assam “into Nepal.”
That was when the political drama truly began. Opposition leaders Gaurav Gogoi of Congress and Akhil Gogoi of Raijor Dal (ironically, once a critic of Zubeen) demanded a CBI inquiry, alleging that Himanta was shielding Shyamkanu. Soon, social media exploded with photos of Shyamkanu alongside Himanta, followed by counter posts showing his pictures with every major leader in Assam, proof of how deeply embedded he was in the state’s power network.
What followed was a masterclass in political theatre. Mahanta and Sharma were arrested on charges of culpable homicide, their photographs in custody released to satisfy public bloodlust. But aware that the case was legally weak and the duo couldn’t be held for long, the probe activated another strategy, invoking financial irregularity charges and bringing in the Enforcement Directorate.
The plot thickened when Shekhar, one of Zubeen’s bandmates who had been in Singapore, suddenly claimed that Zubeen had been poisoned by Shyamkanu and Siddhartha, contradicting his earlier media statements asserting death by drowning. On this basis, police upgraded the case to murder and arrested Shekhar and a female singer who was also in Singapore.
Soon after, public turned to Zubeen’s cousin Sandipan Garg, a policeman who had accompanied him to Singapore. He was also arrested too. Later, two of Zubeen’s government-assigned security officers—Assam Police personnel Nandeswar Bora and Paresh Baishya, were arrested after the SIT detected suspicious bank transactions in their accounts.
The probe widened further as the Assam Association in Singapore, the group that hosted the ill-fated yacht party, came under public glare. Several have since recorded statements with the SIT, prompting public questions about why none have been arrested. Assam Police now plan to visit Singapore to trace the events back to their origin. On October 15, Sarma met Singapore’s acting high commissioner in Delhi to seek formal cooperation in the probe.
The public frenzy soon drew even Zubeen’s wife, Garima, into its whirlpool. Initially, she had defended Siddhartha, calling him loyal and incapable of harm, and had even wanted him at the funeral. The gesture, however, prompted a vicious social-media backlash accusing her of an affair with Siddharth. Under siege, she later shifted her position, now voicing suspicion of negligence. “Siddharth was like family. Zubeen trusted him completely, with both personal and financial matters. That’s why we wanted to meet him, to understand what really happened,” Garima told my colleague Aparmita Das. “Intentional or accidental, I don’t know. But no care was taken. Siddharth and organiser Shyamkanu Mahanta should have ensured medical assistance. The yacht had no medical staff despite water sports.”
Then came Baksa. When the accused were shifted to the district jail there, mobs erupted in fury, pelting stones and torching police vehicles. Two dozen were injured; arrests followed. Among those detained were two men who were publicly identified as Bengali-origin Muslims or “Miyas”, reviving Assam’s most combustible political subtext: identity. There are many in the ruling dispensation who believe that the Miya community, Bengali-speaking Muslims of immigrant origin, has sought to appropriate Zubeen as a cultural symbol, presenting him as an inclusive icon beloved by all communities, and in the process asserting their existence as a legitimate shareholder in larger Assamese identity. This attempt to appropriate Zubeen’s legacy is also a subtle challenge to Sarma’s anti-immigration politics, particularly in Upper Assam where the CM’s Hindutva narrative finds less traction among certain communities who don’t fully align with the RSS brand of Hinduism.
Referring to the Baksa jail violence, Sarma accused “certain groups” of exploiting Zubeen’s death for political gain. “When Zubeen was alive, the entire ecosystem tried to defame him. Now, the same people worship him as a god,” he wrote on X, calling them “fake fans” using the singer’s name to attack the BJP. “True love is shown when someone is alive, not when it becomes convenient after death,” he added.
Ironically, the BJP, despite governing both Assam and the Centre, has launched a statewide campaign from October 22 to 26 demanding “justice for Zubeen.” The party seeks a fast-track trial under a High Court judge’s supervision and an airtight chargesheet from the SIT, even though the government itself has already ordered a fast-track court, appointed a special public prosecutor, and the SIT has pledged to file its chargesheet within 90 days.
In the end, Assam’s most loved voice has been repurposed as an electoral chorus, where grief is choreographed, justice is scripted, and emotion is weaponised. The singer who once united Assam through melody has, in death, become the fault line through which its politics now sings its loudest, and most discordant, tune.