Zubeen Garg’s final film, Roi Roi Binale, has once again placed Assam’s foremost artistic and social voice at the centre of public conversation. Over more than three decades, Zubeen has been much more than a singer.
He has become a voice deeply rooted in Assam’s democratic instincts, speaking openly on issues of identity, social equity, and political power.
While Roi Roi Binale is a musical drama, many audiences interpret it as a subtle critique of the current political climate. Its themes of artistic independence, resistance to power, the volatile insurgency period in Assam, and the dignity of ordinary citizens resonate strongly, especially amidst intense political contestation.
Since the BJP came to power in Assam in 2016, Garg has frequently spoken out against policies he believes threaten the state’s cultural identity. His sharpest interventions came during the protests against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act (CAA) in 2019. He warned, “If A stands for Assam and Assamese, B can never stand for Bangladeshi infiltrators, the way C does not stand for CAA. Don’t mess with Assam.”
Even in 2024, after the CAA bill was passed, Zubeen firmly stood on this ground. He openly said, “I used to oppose it when it was CAB (bill), and I oppose it when it has become CAA (Act).”
The CAA sparked large-scale mobiliaations in Assam, where many feared the law could dilute the safeguards of the 1985 Assam Accord.
Garg stood with protesters on the streets, performing at rallies and urging people not to support the government. Even at a music event, he famously told voters, “BJPk vote nibido dei! Ekdum Botla Maal!” (Please don’t vote for the BJP, it’s a very bad product!)
For many, his views aligned with a long-standing worry in Assam that cultural and linguistic identity must remain non-negotiable.
Roi Roi Binale carries forward Garg’s lifelong message: an artist must stand with the people, not with power. One of the film’s key lines, “I am an artist; I stand for the people, not for the king. I will not sing for that MLA,” has already become iconic among the people.
Even Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma found himself in a defensive position.
When asked by a reporter when he planned to watch the film, he remarked, “People will go first to watch the movie; the king will be behind… A king, whether you call him a Minister or an MLA, should learn to stand in the last queue.”
His words drew strong public backlash, reinforcing the perception of the BJP’s growing disconnect from the masses and the arrogance that power can bring, as he referred to himself as the king.
Sarma belittled Zubeen’s vocal opposition to the CAA by calling him “naive” and attempted to trivialise his iconic anti-caste, anti-communal dialogue from Kanchenjungha: “I have no religion, no caste, no God. I am Kanchenjungha.”
Sarma could not take this line casually because it directly challenged the ideological core of the BJP, a party whose politics fundamentally rely on communal division and Hindutva identity. The dialogue struck at the heart of the BJP’s narrative, unsettling a regime uncomfortable with voices rejecting religion as a marker of citizenship, belonging, or political worth.
“What kind of movement is he trying to lead—someone who says he has no God, no religion?” Sarma asked.
During a rally against the CAA, when Zubeen openly stated that “the anarchy of those in power must end” and that the BJP would be “wiped out from Assam,” Sarma suggested the singer was being manipulated. “Zubeen is an emotional boy… his well-wishers should not allow him to behave this way,” he remarked, portraying him more as politically misguided than as a principled critic.
Zubeen also publicly confronted Sarma over the government’s attempt to dictate the timeline for Bihu celebrations. Emphasising cultural autonomy, he said, “Who are you to decide when we celebrate Bihu? The people will decide. You do your job; leave culture to us.”
Ironically, after Zubeen’s death, some BJP workers even marched against their own government, revealing the deep public sentiment and political discomfort his legacy evoked. Yet Sarma accused Congress and other opposition parties of “politicising Zubeen’s legacy” and repeatedly dismissed protestors as “fake fans” who opposed the BJP while claiming to admire Zubeen.
These responses collectively show how Himanta Biswa Sarma attempted to delegitimize Zubeen through personal attacks, narrative inversion, and selective appropriation—reflecting the BJP’s struggle to contain the cultural and political force Zubeen represented.
The film loosely mirrors Garg’s own life. Its protagonist, a singer deeply rooted in his community, refuses to perform for political leaders seeking legitimacy through culture. In a striking scene, a fellow singer respectfully calls a local legislator “Sir,” but Garg’s character interrupts, “Don’t call anyone Sir from whom you have nothing to learn; how can that MLA be your Sir?”
This exchange highlights a central idea: respect must be earned through moral worth, not power.
Although not overtly political, many see the film as a quiet challenge to the culture of VIP privilege and political patronage entrenched in the current establishment.
‘Zubeen Garg said what he had to say as his final statement. He wanted to create a musical masterpiece. What the movie is? But it is more than that. It’s also his final statement and his stand as an artist. He didn’t force any message, but he said what he said, subtle and powerful.”, said Deepak Kumar while coming out of a movie theatre after watching the movie.
Zubeen’s visible love for nature on screen found equal public expression off it, notably when he sat in protest at Dighalipukhuri against felling age-old trees for a proposed flyover in November 2024. He warned authorities of firm resistance: “We will start a revolution if Dighalipukhuri’s trees are cut down. They can cut me down, too.” Addressing the Chief Minister and even the Prime Minister, he reiterated his commitment to protect Guwahati’s green heritage, vowing to mobilize people if needed.
Responding dismissively, BJP MLA Prasanta Phukan questioned, “Who is Zubeen? Is he made of something special? Just because he has sung a few songs, does that make him big? Can he even speak in public? He may sing well, but I don’t think he knows Assamese properly.”
Beyond its narrative, Roi Roi Binale serves as a poignant tribute to Zubeen Garg’s own life and artistic journey.
The film’s protagonist, Raul, embodies the artist’s refusal to bow to political pressures or compromise on integrity, reflecting Zubeen’s steadfast commitment to speaking truth to power throughout his career.
Even a week after its release, Roi Roi Binale continues to draw large crowds, turning its debut into a shared emotional moment. The film may be his last cinematic project, but it extends the core message he upheld for decades-that art must speak truth, and artists must serve society before the state.
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