The grief over Assam’s homegrown rockstar Zubeen Garg has mutated into something darker. In the weeks since his seemingly mysterious death in Singapore, the court of public opinion is calling conspiracy. And the outrage is not dissimilar from what we saw in another celebrity’s demise—that of Sushant Singh Rajput. The Bollywood heartthrob’s suicide led to a frenzy—online violence that was marketed as grief.
However, while the debate surrounding Rajput’s death was both conjured and performed by the mainstream media, in Zubeen’s case, it is a testament to a phenomenon. At least 60 police complaints have been lodged with the Assam state police, according to the BBC.
Some say that Zubeen was poisoned. A video of the singer struggling to breathe was shared on social media, and fans asked why he was allowed to swim. One of the men arrested in the case took to the Supreme Court, seeking protection from what he called a “calculated witch-hunt”. There are op-ed articles positioning Zubeen alongside Rajput—turning them both into totems for India itself. There is a political fraternity wanting to use public grief to its advantage. An investigation with a thick, treacly layer of opacity. And a citizenry on edge.
There was an aura that pervaded Zubeen’s mystique. At a Sivasagar concert in February 2023, Zubeen refused to sing, wrote Tora Agarwala. And two months later, he returned—to an audience that was unchanged. They remained in awe, dazzled by this giant of a man, who was a rockstar in the truest sense of the word. He was volatile, driven by camaraderie, and deeply loved.
The Zubeen phenomenon was shaped by his manoeuvrings in public.
“His public life swung between tenderness and trouble. He once hoisted the flag in shorts, sang a song that was not the national anthem, and FIRs were lodged. He walked off a Bihu stage in Guwahati when organisers told him to drop the Hindi songs, then told another crowd that a gamocha alone does not make one Assamese,” wrote Anee Haralu in Raiot. “He used harsh words about Brahmins and apologised. He said Krishna was a man, not a god, and satra institutions in Majuli announced a ban. He kept performing.”
Also read: ‘Processing the loss’—At Delhi pub, ‘Joi Zubeen da’ chants, 1 am singing
A hydra-headed demon
Oceans sit between Zubeen and Rajput. The spaces they occupied were entirely separate, as were their fandoms. But what their deaths reveal is a study in human behaviour as performed in the public sphere. When a celebrity—the subject of a para-social relationship—is removed, only one half remains. And these heartbroken fans feel a special sense of betrayal, one which causes disparate entities and people to fuse together and act as one.
A quest for ‘justice’ ensues. It is undertaken in the streets, on social media, and in courts of law. In both cases, there were extraordinary circumstances and unanswered questions. No one knows what transpired in Zubeen’s final hours. Five arrests have been made.
“We have pleaded for a fast-track investigation because this is the case of Zubeen Garg, who is everyone’s emotion. People are deeply connected to him and want to know: what really happened. So the investigation should move faster,” Garima Saikia Garg, Zubeen’s wife, told ThePrint in an interview.
She’s not just speaking as a grieving wife, fresh in the throes of bereavement. The public’s desires have also been foisted on her—their hunger for justice and their need for answers.
Meanwhile, in Rajput’s case, public frenzy grew uncontrollable. It was mob violence playing out online. His girlfriend at the time, Rhea Chakraborty, became a convenient scapegoat, consumed and spat out by a bloodthirsty internet.
It is yet to be seen which direction the Zubeen trial will take. The investigation is ongoing, but the questions linger. People deal with the limitations of the system and the nuances of justice on a daily basis.
When a celebrity dies, it is experienced collectively. But there are lessons to be learned from the Sushant Singh Rajput case. Social media outrage is a hydra-headed demon. It’s wild, unruly, and once it grows, it becomes impossible to tame.
(Edited by Prasanna Bachchhav)