Assam's political season may feel the long shadow of Zubeen Garg's absence

The state is learning that the loss of a cultural icon can be more politically potent than any promise in an election manifesto

When Assam woke up to the news of artist Zubeen Garg’s death on September 19, the initial shock quickly gave way to an emotional wave that swept the state, across districts and demographic lines. 

Zubeen, commonly called Pranor Hilpi, which means an artist who touches the heart — one of the state’s most recognisable cultural figures — died in Singapore, where he was attending the Northeast Festival. Singapore authorities later confirmed that he had drowned in a swimming pool, noting his recent history of seizures and medical advice to avoid water. 

Two people became the focus of collective anger: Festival organiser Shyamkanu Mahanta and Zubeen’s manager Siddhartha Sharma, both present when the incident occurred. Accusations of negligence soon merged with conspiratorial whispers of financial exploitation. More than 60 FIRs (first information reports) across Assam turned private grief into public mobilisation. 

Sensing the public mood, Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma recalibrated his response. Hours before Zubeen’s cremation on September 23, he ordered a second post-mortem at Gauhati Medical College and dispatched viscera samples to the Central Forensic Science Laboratory in Delhi to check for toxins. 

What might have remained a tragic accident, however, soon acquired a larger political dimension. Six months ahead of next year’s Assembly election, Zubeen’s passing has become a potent and unpredictable factor in Assam’s political environment.

 

Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma’s most striking political moment came a week later. “Don’t vote for us in 2026 if we fail to deliver justice for Zubeen Garg,” he declared — an unusually high-stakes assurance, interpreted by detractors as politicisation of grief and by supporters as urgent damage control.

 

Opposition parties moved quickly. Congress Member of Parliament Gaurav Gogoi accused the government of shielding Shyamkanu and questioned the neutrality of the special investigating team (SIT), alleging it consisted of officers close to the chief minister. He also claimed that despite his arrest and frozen accounts, Shyamkanu continued to enjoy privileges — charges the government denied.

 

On October 17, Rahul Gandhi visited Zubeen’s funeral site in Guwahati, nearly a month after the death. His visit signalled that the national-level Congress leadership now viewed the incident as a possible electoral flashpoint. Two days later, the Opposition held a rare show of unity at a public memorial attended by members of the Congress, Raijor Dal, Assam Jatiya Parishad, and several cultural figures.

 

Raijor Dal MLA (member of the Legislative Assembly) Akhil Gogoi added another layer of controversy by alleging that the chief minister’s wife, Riniki Bhuyan Sarma, allowed her fashion show — part of the Northeast Festival in Singapore — to continue even after news of Zubeen’s death. Riniki strongly denied the allegation and subsequently filed a criminal defamation case.

 

“This is the most formidable challenge in Sarma’s tenure as chief minister, even tougher than the protests on the Citizenship Amendment Act. His previous proximity to the accused, Shyamkanu, seems to implicate him in the minds of the public,” said Nivan Bagchi, research scholar, Department of Political Science, Gauhati University.

 

However, Atanu Bhuyan, renowned journalist, said: “I do not think that Garg’s death is a political issue in Assam. The sentiment is in social media, led by people of a certain community with a certain political party affiliation.”

 

For now, Assam waits for the findings of the SIT and the judicial commission. But what is clear is that Zubeen Garg — whose music had long unified the state — has, in death, become an unexpected axis for political mobilisation. As the election approaches, parties will have to decide whether to temper the charged atmosphere or harness it.

 

Either way, Zubeen’s absence is likely to cast a long shadow on Assam’s political season. His influence in Assam went beyond music. He represented a bridge between generations, between the cultural confidence of the 1990s and the modern social media-driven assertiveness of today’s youth. His sudden absence has created a rare shared mood in a state accustomed to political fragmentation.

 

It is this mood — not the investigations alone — that will shape how his death is remembered next year.

 

For now, politics moves carefully around the contours of grief, measuring every gesture.

 

In the silence after Zubeen, Assam is learning that the loss of a cultural icon can be more politically potent than any promise in an election manifesto.