More than 15 lakh people gathered at Sarusajai Stadium to honour the voice of Assam. Officials described the turnout as unprecedented—one of the largest public gatherings the state has ever witnessed.

From the moment his mortal remains arrived from Singapore—where he had travelled to perform at the Northeast Festival—Assam moved as one. Thousands lined the streets as the casket was taken from the airport to his Kahilipara residence, voices rising in farewell and grief.

The procession later reached Sarusajai, where the crowd swelled into lakhs and the stadium became the centre of public mourning. Heavy rain fell soon after his arrival, yet fans stood drenched and unmoved, refusing to leave until they had paid their respects.

“Zubeen da, apuni omor houk.”

For many, the rain felt like an echo of the sudden showers that used to accompany Zubeen’s stage performances. It was as if the skies themselves had come to share the farewell. In the midst of the downpour, people wept, sang, and remembered—not only the songs but the way his voice stitched together the pride and identity of a state.

Garima Garg, his wife, addressed the crowd with gratitude: “Zubeen will always remain with us.” That promise hung in the wet air, hopeful and heavy at once.

The scale of the turnout underlined Zubeen Garg’s impact across Assam. To lakhs of people he was more than a musician—he was the voice of their stories, their celebrations, and their sorrow. On this rain-soaked day, Assam returned that love in the only way it knew: by standing together until the very last note faded into memory.