Zubeen composed rebellious yet melodious music at a time when traditional norms and societal narrowness held people in despair or imitation

Assam's heartthrob singer, Zubeen Garg's, last interview with writer Rita Choudhury uncovered his inner self, allowing people across the state to glimpse his true feelings. He was fascinated by Friedrich Nietzsche's concept of "Nothingness," as he expressed in the interview. Pink Floyd's psychedelic melodies may also have captured Zubeen's imagination. Instead of collapsing into Nothingness, he filled that void with creation -- his own "will power."

Zubeen composed rebellious yet melodious music at a time when traditional norms and societal narrowness held people in despair or imitation. His fearless music and lifestyle embodied Nietzsche's "will to power" -- the power to respond affirmatively to life. He did not choose the path of self-denial and despair, which Nietzsche termed the "will to nothingness." Therefore, Zubeen's creations and rebellious lifestyle filled people's hearts with songs, poetry, and a sense of freedom instead of emptiness.

In his last interview, Zubeen seemed to share a deeper part of himself when asked to open up: "Look, you should open up a little bit today, because you won't do it again." Perhaps this revealed a deep-seated pain in his innermost core. When Zubeen said, "I'm not a machine," it wasn't just fatigue; it was a rebuttal to the commodification of talent. Psychologically, that statement corresponds to what humanistic psychologists like Carl Rogers or Maslow call the need for authentic recognition. He didn't just want to be viewed as a singer; he likely wanted people to love him without being required to act like a machine. He seemed to understand that creativity could not save him from endless exhaustion. That's why he said, "I'm a performer; I need to perform and die." He was not afraid of death; he knew that if he disappeared, he would not be lost -- immortality seemed to be waiting for him.

Driven by impulsivity and a risk-taking drive, he was eager to jump into the sea without gauging the depths. This aligns with the sensation-seeking trait (Zuckerman's theory) -- a yearning for novelty, risk, and intensity. Creative personalities often carry this restlessness. He once said, "I like to play with the sea; there is nothing to do in the sea; I haven't got the ship yet." The sea here is a metaphor for Zubeen. On the one hand, it represents drama, and on the other hand, its futility is an endless vastness where no ship can reach. It reflects an existential tension in Zubeen's mind: the idea that life is both a wonder and an emptiness. Nietzsche might reflect this as a desire to merge with the void, or this "oceanic feeling" is, in the words of Freud and Romain Rolland, a feeling of merging with a metaphysical yet fearful infinity.

Zubeen often blurred the line between himself and his art. He didn't just create songs; he lived as if his life was a song. If we bring up the theory of psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Zubeen may have entered a mental state called flow when he was absorbed in the whisper of music. Singing one song after another, he entered this flow state. With 38,000 songs, this output is immense. But when art becomes a commodity, the feeling that it threatens his being annoys him, leading to anger.

There is no way to separate the philosophical aspect of Zubeen Garg from his Assamese identity. His rebellion was not without roots; he associated the Assamese identity with his creation. "I want to be Zubeen Garg again in rebirth, more than that," these words reveal another aspect of his personality. This is a legend-making gesture, akin to McAdams' theory of narrative identity, in which individuals craft life stories that emphasize solidarity and legacy. Zubeen wants to be Zubeen, or bigger, in his next life.

Zubeen was afraid of time, often looking at his watch and stating this fear. He was afraid that he might cease to exist and wanted to see his life turned into a narrative -- to see himself as a legend. Didn't Alexander want that too? But he channeled this existential fear into creativity. He said, "I live with millions of people. So, I will stay with them. I'm a performer; I need to perform and die." He integrated his life into the performance of his art. For an artist, life has meaning only as long as he continues to perform -- for life, for immortality. When performance is over, life is over.

"I eat less; I feed." Everyone knows Zubeen's altruism; it needs no explanation. But this seems to fit Carl Jung's concept of the wounded healer. Zubeen himself was wounded inside, carrying a deep darkness in his heart. He says, "I don't know why I write some dark songs (Roi Roi Binale)." The mathematician Ramanujan, similarly, did not know how he invented number theory and infinite series; it must have come from his subconscious mind. We can say that creation is a channel, not a controlled act, and there is often no conscious control behind it. He said, "A king should never leave his kingdom. If I die in Assam, Assam will be closed for a week." We can understand this through social identity theory: Zubeen is not separate from Assamese nationalism.

But he carried that burden -- the burden of symbolic immortality, the idea that death would not be an end of him. He thus dared to jump into the depths of the sea, often exploring an intellectual emptiness emphasized by alcohol and amusement. Yet, he knew he would be alone at the time of death; he imagined an existential isolation when he said, "When you die in battle, there are only three with you; the others are gone; they all run away."

"The people, they made me machine. I wasn't like that..." -- Zubeen Garg. There are many people who may have mistaken Zubeen Garg's dignity for arrogance. He had no free will; none of us have free will. He came and went. This is life.