I'm a Tamilian who grew up in Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh. Assam was nowhere close to reach. There was no other knowledge of the State other than what was taught in schoolbooks. But then time changed! The day I heard ‘Ya Ali’ for the first time nearly 20 years ago is still vividly fresh in mind. I used study in Erode, Tamil Nadu then was in Bhopal for my vacation. My friend and I would roam around Bhopal in his car. During once such timeouts, he introduced me to 'Ya Ali'. We would listen to it on loop, banging our heads like crazy to that storm of a voice — a voice that shook my heart and the heartland! From then on, my love for him only grew with every song he sang.

Zubeen Garg The following year, a song from the Tamil film Urchagam, which had released that year, caught attention. I found out that veteran percussionist Ranjit Barot was the composer. And then my eyes went to the vocalist's name — Zubeen Garg! I was blown away! The song has been a part of my private playlist since then. To be honest, his own repertoire is a million miles ahead of 'Kangal' (the name of the song, meaning 'eyes'); but for my taste at the time, the music was quite fresh!

Cut to 2011. Annamalai University. A big bunch of my Assamese classmates and fellow hostellers proudly put Zubeen Garg on the map for me. "He’s Axomiya, you know," they would chime with such pride! Back then, I could never truly grasp the depth of impact that singers like KK, Lucky Ali, or Kishore Da had on us — not like I do today. Back then, honestly, Papon meant more to me than Zubeen did. But at least I knew what he meant for Assam — a realisation that would mean so much more to me four years later. The year was 2016. I, a boy from Tamil Nadu, had found the love of my life — in Assam. It was then that I began to truly live the emotion people have for Zubeen Da — how he is not merely a musician, but a phenomenon, a movement, a heartbeat of the masses.

Today, I find solace in ‘Roi Roi Binale’, ‘Rod Aaji’, ‘Endhar Hobo Nowaru’, ‘Mugdho Hiya Mur’, ‘Gaane Ki Aane’, ‘Mayabini’, ‘Mon Jaai’, and countless other songs of his. More often than not, I have felt them to be deep conversations with someone wiser, kinder, larger than life.

Amidst all the heartbreak, agony, and devastation, I still smile, cherishing the fact that I got to witness the magic he created and spread on stage — not once, but twice. And to realise that I will never hear that piercing voice again . Never see that towering, iconoclastic presence again . it rips my heart apart.

In January 2018, I was in Kolkata for my close friend's wedding. My wife, who was my partner then, was coming to attend the wedding, and I was at the airport to receive her. She and Zubeen Da were on the same flight from Guwahati, seated next to each other! They had an amazing conversation, more so as my partner was a programme presenter at the All India Radio, Guwahati. As he came out of the arrival gate, my partner introduced me to him. He went, "Eitu dora niki?" (Is he the groom?) She must have told him she was going for a wedding. In hindsight, not only do I wish I knew the language then, but I also wish I had known him not just as a musician, but also as a human being — the man behind the music, the soul behind the storm.

Nonetheless, when I get to know that many people who live in Assam have not had the chance of seeing him in person, I do feel a little proud that I not only met him but also shook hands with him. Zubeen Da had once asked the people of Assam to sing ‘Mayabini’ after he passed. Never imagined the wretched day would arrive this soon. The lyrics from one of my favourite Zubeen songs goes like this: নভবা কথাও হঠাতে হয় চাগে, পাইও হেৰুৱালো বুজি পোৱাৰ আগতে… It hits differently, just like many other songs of his now — as though he had left us hints of his absence!