Mahanta’s Intentions vs. Narain’s Actions: Who Tells the True Story of Zubeen Garg?

The tragic demise of Zubeen Garg in Singapore has unleashed a storm far larger than the incident itself. In its aftermath, two men—Shyamkanu Mahanta, festival organiser, and Dr. Sanjive Narain, Zubeen’s long-time friend—offer starkly different narratives, each claiming responsibility, innocence, and devotion to the singer’s legacy. And amid these conflicting accounts, Assam’s cultural and political landscape becomes an unintentional battleground.

Mahanta Speaks: “I Only Wanted to Celebrate Culture”

Shyamkanu Mahanta's defense is based on intent. In a video shared on Facebook, he over and over again insisted that he had invited Zubeen Garg as the brand ambassador of the Northeast Festival—a festival which he assertedly has been conducting since 2013 to promote Assam's art, cuisine, and tourism. Zubeen traveled from Guwahati to Singapore, performed, and met his untimely demise while Mahanta was holding a meeting with Northeast delegates, he claimed.

Mahanta positions himself as a victim of public fury, threatened for deeds he maintains were solely professional and culturally inspired. He maintains the festival was not carried out after Zubeen's passing, as rumors had gone, and asserts that he and a few members of his circle were concerned only with returning Zubeen's mortal body to Assam. "I didn't do anything wrong by inviting him here for the festival," he claims. His account is an expression of both sadness and being on guard—erstwhile personal consequences of social media conspiracies and pressure of performing the role of a cultural organizer in the public eye.

Narain Speaks: "I Was There When Facts Mattered"

Dr. Sanjive Narain's version, however, is altogether different. As a friend and adviser of Zubeen, Narain focuses on action rather than on intent. Narain describes in detail his instant reaction to the crash, working through Singapore officials, Zubeen's manager, and India's Deputy High Commissioner to provide adequate medical treatment. Narain indignantly refutes accusations of planning a party or chartering a yacht, citing flight tickets and boarding passes as evidence.

Narain's account is characterized by anger—not just at the accident itself but at being misrepresented on social media and prevented from attending Zubeen's funeral. His statement attests to the close personal connections that led him to make his decisions, not opinion or festival management. For Narain, facts are paramount, responsibility is key, and defending the dignity of the deceased comes first.

The Wider Picture: Politics, Culture, and Public Perception

Aside from individual stories, this tragedy raises broader issues regarding culture, politics, and media. Assam's Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma has prohibited Mahanta from organizing events in the state, alleging incompatibility with Assamese culture. Rumors and social media have hyped suspicions, turning the drama into a race of narratives where loss becomes one-upmanship.

Mahanta and Narain both say they are ready to meet the SIT probe, but their stories emphasize a deeper conflict: intention vs. action, private sorrow vs. public interrogation, and cultural advancement vs. political regulation. The two men are not just fighting for their own lives; they are, in varying degrees, laying claims to Zubeen's heritage—one by way of cultural organization, the other by means of personal allegiance and instant action.

Opinion: The Lessons We Must Learn

The tragedy of our beloved Zubeen Garg must not be boiled down to a duel of words or an act of accusation. Social media frenzy, politics, and disinformation have obscured reason, the danger lurking close to reducing the life of one of Assam's most celebrated cultural figures to shadow. Both Mahanta’s cultural perspective and Narain’s factual claims may hold some truth, but the real facts remain elusive until a proper investigation is conducted.

What this episode finally provides is the vulnerability of truth in the age of the internet. Cultural efforts, however well-meaning, can be misinterpreted; individual sorrow can be turned against; and public opinion can quickly distort facts. Assam—and India's cultural gatekeepers—need to walk along carefully, making sure that Zubeen Garg's memory is held dear with honour, not lost in rumour, political revenge, or personal accounts.

Ultimately, the testimonies of both Mahanta and Narain are more than self-justification—they are a demonstration of how tragedy cuts across culture, media, and human feeling. And maybe that is what Assam needs to be the story about, instead of the finger-pointing that has already commenced.

Also Read: Could Silence Be Misinterpreted as Guilt? Narain’s Account of a Friend Lost