Zubeen Garg: The free bird who sang beyond boundaries

I didn’t have a personal acquaintance with Zubin Garg. About thirteen years ago, I met him unexpectedly at Guwahati Airport. Early in the morning, I was standing in line for a boarding pass for a flight to Silchar. Right in front of me was a middle-aged man wearing cargo pants and a T-shirt, with headphones hanging around his neck and disheveled hair. He seemed a bit anxious. Upon closer inspection, I felt he looked familiar. After much thought, I realized it was Zubin Garg. 

He had a backpack on his shoulders and a large trolley bag in hand. At the check-in counter, his luggage exceeded the airline’s weight limit. I noticed Zubin getting a bit restless, requesting the counter staff to adjust the excess weight, but the staff wasn’t willing to bend the rules. Since I had no luggage, I offered to adjust his excess weight under my PNR. This resolved the issue.

 Zubin was delighted and thanked me repeatedly. Coincidentally, our seats were assigned next to each other. After clearing security, we spent quite some time together. Out of gratitude, he insisted on treating me to coffee. We even took photos on my phone. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. When I asked, he said he had spent the night rehearsing for a new album and avoided sleeping to catch the flight, heading straight to the airport. 

We didn’t talk much on the flight—just small talk. He mentioned he was going to Silchar for an event at NIT. He slept through most of the half-hour journey. After landing in Silchar, he offered me a ride, saying, “NIT is sending a car for me; you can join if it’s not inconvenient.” I thanked him and said I had my own transport arranged. As we parted ways with his luggage, we shook hands, and he smiled and said in Bengali, “We’ll meet again sometime.” But that meeting or conversation never happened again. And now, it never will. 

Every evening, on my way to or from the office, I play music in the car via Amazon Music—either Rabindra Sangeet or old Bollywood songs. For some reason, over the last four or five days, I’ve been deliberately listening to Zubin’s songs. Whether it’s a coincidence or something else, I have no explanation. When I heard the devastating news this afternoon, I kept thinking about why I had been listening to his songs so much lately. From “Ya Ali” to “jodi Jibanar Rang bure luka bhaku khele…,” I’ve played these songs countless times on my commute. What a strange coincidence! 

Many artists have come and will come to this country. Some may be far more popular than Zubin, with larger fan bases. But the extraordinary quality of his artistic spirit is something only a few possess. He never spoke politically correct words. He openly expressed what he believed and understood, which often landed him in controversies. Yet, he never changed himself. Even while being close to those in power, he fearlessly criticized them. He lived like a bohemian artist, never bound by disciplined behavior, flowing freely with unrestrained passion. Despite falling seriously ill several times at a young age, he never altered his way of life. Such was his love for a wild, unconventional life. 

He never compromised when speaking for the interests of his community, society, or state. This is what made Zubin stand out, radiant among countless other artists. During this Bihu, while performing on some stage, he had said, “After my death, everyone will play this song!” Did this artist, perhaps, hear the footsteps of his final days? 

Such a free-spirited, untamed bird cannot be caged for long… This bird will now sing in a new world! Saying “May his soul rest in peace” feels somehow out of place for him!