যুবীন।

So much, the good, the bad and the ugly; has been discussed about the man that I find it a futile exercise to go on a “suitable” adjective hunting spree for his name. Mired in ill-timed controversies, Zubeen’s niche in Assamese music, and especially in the hearts of the people, has widened and narrowed almost in a cyclical fashion over the last two decades, ever since he hit the roads with his “Anamika” in the 90’s.

Through an almost weird viewpoint, I find Zubeen in the same dais as some one like say “Sehwag”. I realized that placing and judging them against any reference is a mistake. A simple waste of time. Mostly eccentric, sometimes stupidly outgoing (perhaps when mostly high) and sometime quite the sober gentleman, it is our mistake if we hope that Zubeen will one day fill up those voids that exist after greats like Dr. Bhupen Hazarika left us all.

Zubeen is simply Zubeen. Zubeen is what his music is. Zubeen is what he himself guardedly confesses in one of his recitals:

“Jodiu moi bhabisilu my father is a hero,

Teur dore hobo pora nasilu moi kunudin;

Aah, Teur ischar xomadhi bogai aji moi ki je holuhi,

Ekhon halodhia morubhumi, jibonhinotar smokhan,

Deutai najane kothabur, khub dukh paabo teu,

Mur aatmohononor diary porhi,

Moi je ajikali jontronar dhuarito cigarette hupu,

Aru pi matal hoi thaku xunyotar modira

Bor hasyokor, bor korun,niyotir khela...”

A burning desire. A desire that refuses to die down even after the midnight hours have long passed in the day. Something that lingers on, however one wishes it away; painful and permanent. Seeped in hopelessness. We used to call it “frustu” back in our college days. Be it the odes for his mother in “Pakhi”, the songs that cry for the homeland and the devastations in “Xikhu” and the countless heartbroken romances from “Anamika”, “Daag” “Maya” “Rumaal”, Zubeen infuses that unfulfilled desire in each one of those gems. As if he is still in search of his “Nazira higher secondary’r Anamika Dowerah”...

To the tired farmer in the fields, to the mother humming in a “paakghor”, to the dejected youth tired from unemployment and lost love; Zubeen’s voice carries to the farthest harmony.

We are already devastated, with the realization that Bhupen Da’s voice will no longer spin new tales over the Luit. Already devastated with the realization that the State, our Assam is going nowhere near any path of progress fought and promised for again and again.

I seek Zubeen in my devastation thus. And I know I will miss him, if sometime his voice too ceases to be around. That is just an honest confession.

-পলাশ