The Last Rockstar

“And in the naked light, I saw

Then Thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never shared

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence…”

Long hair. Two mismatched boots. Vibrant shades. Full-sleeve punk shirts, torn denim, and a voice that could bring heaven down to earth. What more could you possibly ask of a rockstar?

For over three decades, Assam had its own. And then, all of a sudden, we don’t anymore. Perhaps that will remain the saddest melody of his life and for Assam too.

There’s an entire generation that grew up with him. A generation that watched a rebel turn into a cult icon. They slept to his songs. They woke up to his songs. Some would even say they breathed because of his songs. Since last night, the whole of Assam has been humming Mayabini like a prayer. Everywhere you look, people are gathering, mourning together, trying to make sense of a silence they weren’t prepared for.

Back in the late ’90s, something had shifted. Young Assamese students had stopped listening to Assamese music. It felt repetitive, uninspired. Western icons and global beats were taking over their Walkmans and stereos. Then came the man with long hair and a guitar. He flipped the entire music scene on its head. The youth followed him blindly, as if hypnotized by his voice, as if he were the Pied Piper of Assam leading them into a new era of sound.

And he never let them down. Not once. From that moment until yesterday, his music never lost its magic.

The world has seen this before, Michael Jackson. Elvis Presley. Legends who became larger than life. Assam saw it once with Dr. Bhupen Hazarika. And then again, in its own way, with Zubeen Garg. Only this time, it was different. Because he wasn’t just an icon. He was ours.

No one imagined the rockstar would leave this early. Yet death, it seems, was gentler to him than some people in his own homeland ever were. He lived like a free spirit; bohemian, impulsive, unchained and he embraced death in the same way.

But we, his fans, wanted more. We wanted a proper goodbye. Instead, like every rockstar before him, he left the stage after his final act.

Kurt Cobain. Jimi Hendrix. Jim Morrison. Amy Winehouse. Chester Bennington. George Best. And now, Zubeen Garg.

Gunshots. Overdoses. Drownings. Plane crashes. They leave the world the way they lived in it :  loud, tragic, unforgettable.

Maybe that’s just how rockstars go.