Weekday Musing – A Voice Too Fragile for Fame
Which singer’s funeral drew the largest number of mourners in history? Guinness records tell us it was not Queen Elizabeth, not Michael Jackson, but a young voice from Assam - Zubeen Garg, fondly called Zubinda. When he passed away on 19th September, at the age of 52, lakhs of people poured into the streets, a silent testimony to how deeply he was woven into their lives.
Who was he? A singer who gave the Assamese heart its modern pulse, who carried his region’s music far beyond its borders, and who lived at a pitch too high for ordinary endurance. Success came early, with fame arriving faster than maturity. His was the familiar story of dazzling talent that never quite found balance.
Surrounded by admirers, yet denied the private space every artist needs, he grew increasingly fragile. Addictions, pressures, and the suffocation of being treated like “public property” took their toll. His untimely death, while scuba diving, clearly unfit for it, feels less like an accident and more like inevitability, an escape from a world he no longer knew how to navigate.
His music still lingers, and in it we glimpse both the promise and the pain. Mayabini carries the air of enchantment, almost a dreamlike glow, as if the singer were forever reaching for something just out of touch. Jibonor Rang (“the colours of life”) is its counterpoint, rich and vibrant, yet threaded with an undertone of longing. Together, they mirror Zubinda’s own journey, a life ablaze with colour, but shadowed by an emptiness he could not escape.
His story is a reminder. Fame can be intoxicating, but also destructive if it denies the individual the space to simply be. Behind every adored public figure is a human being, vulnerable and in need of balance. Zubinda gave his people a soundtrack for their lives; in return, perhaps he sought only a quiet corner of his own.
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