ZUBEEN GARG ~ The Mayabini Forever

From the Mayabini day of his birth in Tura, to the Mayabini day of the demise of the Mayabini soul, yes, today's episode of #thebellawamielshow is truly dedicated to the one and only...ZUBEEN GARG! Welcome to a journey of life that was nit just lived, but was a symphony composed on the very heart strings of an entire civilization. Today on 18/11/2025 [November 18, 2025], we don't just remember an artiste, we seek to understand a phenomenon, a force of nature named Zubeen Garg.

Welcome all to a journey through a life that was not just lived, but was a symphony composed on the very heartstrings of an entire civilization. Today, we dont just remember an artiste; we seek to understand a phenomenon, a force of nature named Zubeen Garg popularly known as Zubeen da.

The story begins not with a man, but with a melody, born amidst the emerald hills of the northeast of India. Assam is not merely a geographical entity. She is a definition of sublime beauty - a poetry written in the flow of the Brahmaputra, a song whispered by the rolling tea gardens, a dance of a thousand hues during Bihu and the silent, profound wisdom of the Namghars. It is a land where the mist clings to the hills like a lover's memory and the air is thick with the fragrance of the past and the passion of the present. And in this land, an artiste is not just a performer; he is a 'Bordoisila' - a storm of emotion, keeper of traditions and a voice for the voiceless. He is loved not for his fame, but for his fidelity to the soil, respected not for his riches, but for the resonance of his soul with the collective conscience of his people.

Into this world, Zubeen da arrived. His life was his magnum opus, a sprawling epic set to music. His musical life may define as 'The Unchained Melody'.

Zubeen da's music was the confluence of a thousand rivers. It was classic, yet contemporary, deeply Assamese, yet unversally human. He did not just sing; he concurred emotions. From the raw, earthy fervour of Bihu Geet - 'Oi Naahor Phulor Botor' that made a million feet tap in unison, to the revolutionary Hindi hit of 'Ya Ali' and 'Jaane Kya Chaahe Mann' from the soul-stirring devotion of 'Ramo Ramo' from movie Strings and 'Pisoloi Ghuri Nesaba' to the poignant, heart - wrenching ballad of 'Jun Jwoli' and 'Mur Monn' from the recent master movie 'ROI ROI BINALE', his voice was an instrument of incredible range.

His voice, a rive in spate,

Carving canyons in the soul's estate,

From Bihu's fire to a lover's sigh,

Under the vast, empathetic sky.

He was a composer, a lyricist, a musician, an actor and a director - a one man army who dismantled the walls between genres. He taught us that music is not bound by language, but by the feeling it carries. He was in every sense the Gandharva of the modern age, whose notes could soothe a troubled heart and ignite a dormant spirit. At a time when Assamese cinema grappled with low production values and dwindling audiences, Zubeen da did the unthinkable: he made going to an Assamese film an event. He didn't just attract viewers; he commanded a cultural movement. His later films, like the blockbuster 'Mission China' and the poignant 'Kanchanjangha', were not just hits; they were historic phenomena. He demonstrated, unequivocally that Assamese cinema was not just an art form, but a commercially viable industry that could command the respect and rupees of its people.

Perhaps one of his most poignant contributions came with his final film, 'Roi Roi Binale'. In a posthumous triumph that feels almost scripted by the divine, the film sparked a revolution. It was released with record breaking, pre-dawn shows and houseful screenings across the State. The demand was so immense that theatres cancelled other films to accommodate the crowds. In his passings, he achieved what seemed impossible: a significant, powerful push for the revival of the struggling single - screen theaters - the very temples of Assamese cinema.

When hope was a flicker, a dying ember's glow,

He stormed the silver screen and made the culture flow,

With records he shattered and ceilings he broke,

He awakened a million hearts with every stroke.

But to confine Zubeen da to the recording studio or cinema hall would be a travesty. His true stage was the world and his audience, humanity. His heart was a vast, inclusive space where everyone had a seat. He was a man of the people, in the truest sense. He felt the tremors of distress in his society and rushed to be the pillar of support.

When the mighty Brahmaputra would overflow its banks, swallowing villages and dreams, Zubeen da was not a distant star. He was there, in the muddy waters and the relief camps, not for a photo opportunity, but as a son of the soil. He organised charity concerts, mobilised resources and with his own hands, delivered aid to the flood - affected people through his KALAGURU FOUNDATION. His presence was a balm, a reassurance that they were not forgotten. And when the dark shadow of the pandemic fell upon the world, a time of fear and isolation, his approach became a lifetime. He used his influence to spread awareness, contribute to relief funds and became a beacon of hope, reminding us of our shared humanity in a time of enforced distance. His love for nature of Assam was the silent baseline of all his songs. He was the vocal advocate for the forests, the rivers, and the wildlife. His art was often a reflection of this deep ecological consciousness, painting audio portraits of his beautiful, fragile Assam. Beyond the celebrated rockstar and cinematic icon, Zubeen da's true essence was his profound, everyday humanitarianism. His home in Guwahati was less a residence and more a perpetual sanctuary, operating as a 24/7 charity driven by his spiritual commitment to service. His generosity was direct and boundless, offering crucial monetary aid for crisis of people, acting as a guardian angel by covering medical bills and surgeries and championing education by funding students' fees and dreams. Most remarkably he offered a sense of belonging, informally 'adopting' individuals from all walks of life - struggling artistes, the elderly and the young - and building a community bound not by blood, but by his boundless love and protection. This quiet, consistent 'karma' was the very cornerstone of his existence.

And now, a personal manecdote that bridges the divine artiste with my own mortal world - a story that makes this tribute all the more intimate, a cherished heirloom of the heart passed down to me even before my own life's melody had begun. The saga of my family's bond with Zubeen da is a mesmerising tapestry, woven with threads of fate and familiarity. My parents met him and his wife, Garima khuri for the first time in the distant sands of Dubai in 2004, an era I know only through their fond recollections. Both were invited by the Axom Association, Dubai, to perform on the occasion of Rongali Bihu. From that moment, under a foreign sky, a bond was forged in the fires of shared art and homeland - a bond that remained forever, unwavering, till his last breath.

Before I was born, I was cradled in the stories of Zubeen da. My parents painted a universe where he was a constant, guiding star: tales of travelling with his band across the verdant expanse of Assam in few occasions; poignant visits to his in-laws in Golaghat; his surpeise apparition at my parents' door in Haryana, a gust of Assamese air in an alien land; the month my parents spent at his Mumbai residence, seeking their path under his benevolent roof; my parents performing the fierce Shiv Tandav dance drama on the grounds of Chandmari field at his album release, while I was but an infant in my mother's arms. He invited my father as a guest artiste for his series 'Zubeen Den', and entrusted my parents to choreograph his song shoot at the cultural sanctum of Kalakshetra. These were the legends of my lullaby.

But for me, there are three moments, personal and profound, that I will cherish and admire forever, like three sacred verses from an epic poem.

I was around three years old, living in the Mumbai bustle of Andheri, a stone's throw from Zubeen da's own abode. One day, he graced our humble residence with a surprise visit. In the innocense of that age, I was simply enveloped in a deep, warm love, unaware that the arms that held me belonged to a legend. But today, when I gaze upon that photograph - a moment frozen in time by my father's camera - I feel a blessing beyond definition. I see not a star, but a pure, unadulterated affection for a child, a warmth that transcends fame and touches the divine.

In the initial days of our organisation AMRAPALI (Society for ARTS), we organised the inauguration of the Amrapali Institute of Arts. Zubeen da graced the occasion as the Chief Guest with his towering presence and this was truly again betond definition. It was a testament to his colossal heart - a lesson in how a true legend finds greatness not in the size of the stage, but in the depth of his connection to common people.

One morning, Zubeen da visited our Kharghuli residence, arriving straight from the exhaustion of a night-long show. Without a word of formality, Zubeen da came in, and took a deep seep til evening. My mother cooked for him with all her heart, and upon waking, he ate the food with utmost love and simplicity before before home. That day remains for me the hardest to explain and yet the most divine. It was a mystery of pure trust and unspoken kinship - a legend finding solace and sanctuary in the humblest of our homes.

And then came the sunset with final ride. The news of his sudden departure sent a seismic shock through the heart of Assam. The fina ride, from the hospital to the cremation ground, was not a procession; it was a river of humanity in mourning. The streets of Guwahati witnessed a sight unprecedented - a sea of people, young and old, weeping, singing his songs, bidding farewell to a part of their own identity. It was a record - breaking congregation of love, a testament to a life lived not for the self, but for the soul of millions.

The final ride, a silent song,

A million hearts, where he belonged,

The pyre burned, but not the fire,

He fulfilled the people's choir.

Zubeen da's legacy is a masterclass in the power of Karma. He did not chase fame; he chased authenticity. He did not perform love; he lived it. he did not just sing for the people; he was of the people. He own the hearts of billions not by strategy, but by sincerity. His life is a message, clear and resonant; That to win the world, you do not need to conquer it. You simply need to embrace it. Pour your heart into your work, extend your hand to those in need and remain true to the soil that nurtures you. The universe, in its own mysterious way, will ensure that your Karma becomes your immorality.

His body turned to ashes, but his voice remained, remains and wil remain as an eternal echo in the hills of Assam, a whisper in the breeze over the Brahmaputra, a forever fame in the heart of every soul he touched.

Thank you Zubeen da, for the music, for the love and compassion towards humanity.

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