ANUPRASH

Zubeen Garg was the song of our growing years — the voice that carried us from childhood into who we became. His music was never just sound; it was memory, it was feeling, it was us. I still remember the first time I heard Jantra as a schoolboy; it was more than a song, it was a lesson, opening up the greater depths of life itself.

“Zindagi badi honi chahiye, lambi nahin.” He lived exactly that — vast in spirit, boundless in art. God’s favorite child, loved endlessly by everyone, he gave us more than melodies; he gave us a language for our emotions.

Today, I imagine him in a gentler place — where his beloved sister welcomes him with song, where the words echo softly:
Tumi ahiba edina
Rong diba dusokut
Moromere buku uposai
Aounkhir jonmor xomukhote
Xemeka sokulu dugalote…

Our childhood, our generation, our culture — all of it bears his voice. Today, the silence hurts, but even in silence, Zubeen Da still sings!!

Assamese music and cinema has lost both its roof and its root. Yet your voice will always remain the soil we stand on, the sky we look up to. Wherever you are, may you keep creating wonders, keep singing the songs that made us who we are. Rest in peace, Zubeen Da — your music will never fade, it will flow forever.

“The Violinist”
Back in 2017, near Nehru Park, Guwahati, I encountered a mysterious soul—a violinist dressed in saffron red, his attire perfectly matching the vibrant hue of his violin. He stood out, not just for his music but for the calm, carefree aura he carried. As he played, I found myself slipping into the mood of his melodies, getting lost in the depth of the emotions his music evoked.

It felt as though time paused—he was unbothered by life’s demands: family, home, ambition, or the daily grind we all chase. It was as if he existed in a world of his own, free from the burdens that weigh most of us down.

Then, all of a sudden, he was gone. Without a word, without a trace. I couldn’t even ask his name. All I had left were a few pictures—a handful of fleeting memories of a man who seemed to live solely for the moment, his music, and nothing else.

Attended the annual fishing event at Deepor Beel to reconnect with my passion for photography. Witnessed the beauty of migratory birds and traditions but couldn’t ignore the alarming pollution threatening this precious ecosystem.