The removal of a mural depicting Zubeen Garg beneath Guwahati’s Ganeshguri flyover should, in principle, have been an unremarkable municipal event. Walls are painted over every day in the name of urban beautification and routine maintenance. Yet, the decision triggered a wave of public outrage that far exceeded what one would ordinarily expect from the disappearance of a piece of street art. Social media platforms were flooded with criticism, artists and admirers mobilised in protest. Within hours, the mural was restored.The intensity of the reaction raises an obvious question: why this mural?After all, Assam is filled with representations of Zubeen Garg. His image appears on roadside banners, tea stalls, student hostels, private vehicles and public walls. Since his death, tributes to the singer have become a near-permanent feature of the state’s visual landscape. Political leaders across ideological divides have praised him. Prime Minister Narendra Modi described him as the “Kohinoor of Assamese culture”. Few public figures in Assam command the kind of admiration that Zubeen does.The answer, therefore, lies in what distinguished this mural from countless other representations of Zubeen across Assam. Beneath the portrait appeared a slogan: “Comrades Never Die”. This phrase transformed a routine act of repainting into a political controversy and shifted attention to the political ideas and associations attached to Zubeen’s public life. Politics of remembering ZubeenThe most revealing aspect of the controversy was how quickly public discussion shifted from the mural itself to the word “comrade” written under it. For supporters, the phrase represented solidarity, humanity and a refusal to let a beloved public figure be reduced to a depoliticised cultural symbol. For critics, however, the term immediately evoked associations with left politics and ideological conflict.What became clear in the days following the mural’s removal was that the dispute was not about whether Zubeen should be remembered, but about how he should be remembered.Zubeen Garg’s mural beneath the Ganeshguri flyover, being painted over, in Guwahati. Photo: X/@intent45264This distinction is crucial because Zubeen was never a politically neutral figure. The image that dominates public memory today is often that of the singer and cultural icon whose music transcended ethnic and religious boundaries. That image is undoubtedly real. Few artists in contemporary India enjoyed the kind of emotional connection with ordinary people that Zubeen did. His songs travelled effortlessly across social divisions, finding audiences among Hindus and Muslims, tribal and non-tribal communities, urban youth and rural labourers alike.Yet reducing Zubeen to a unifying cultural symbol risks obscuring another dimension of his public life. Throughout his career, he repeatedly articulated a vision of society that resisted narrow forms of communal politics. One of the statements most frequently associated with him remains his declaration: “Mur kunu jati nai, mur kunu dharma nai, mur kunu Bhagawan nai. Moi mukto (I have no caste, I have no religion. I have no God. I am free).”At a time when public life is increasingly organised around religious identities and communal boundaries, Zubeen articulated a language of humanism that placed common humanity above caste, religion and sectarian affiliation. Many of his admirers came to see him not simply as a singer but as a figure who represented a broader ethical commitment to coexistence and social harmony.This dimension of Zubeen’s legacy becomes particularly important when one recalls his role during the anti-Citizenship Amendment Act movement in Assam.The CAA generated one of the most significant political upheavals in the state’s recent history, producing widespread protests that cut across social and ideological divisions. While many public figures chose caution, Zubeen emerged as one of the most visible cultural voices opposing the legislation. He attended protest gatherings, addressed public meetings and repeatedly criticised the BJP’s handling of the issue.During the agitation, he accused the BJP of damaging Assam’s socio-cultural harmony and warned that the Citizenship Amendment Act threatened to create new divisions between communities. He described the legislation as unjust and declared that a revolution had begun in Assam.Years later, he continued to maintain that Assam would never accept the CAA and insisted that opposition to it should continue.These interventions complicated the image of Zubeen that often dominates official commemorations. The singer who is celebrated today by political leaders across the spectrum was also someone who repeatedly intervened in contentious political debates and who was willing to criticise those in power. His politics were not reducible to any party ideology, but neither were they politically neutral. They reflected a consistent concern with questions of coexistence and the dangers of communal polarisation.Selective remembrance of ZubeenOne of the recurring features of political memory is the tendency to celebrate public figures while gradually stripping away the aspects of their lives that remain politically inconvenient. This process does not necessarily involve deliberate censorship. More often, it takes the form of selective remembrance. Certain aspects of a person’s life are commemorated, while others recede into the background.There is widespread agreement that Zubeen deserves to be celebrated as a cultural icon. His songs occupy a cherished place in Assamese society, and few would dispute his contribution to the state’s cultural life. Yet, the political meanings associated with him generate a different response.The mural’s slogan forced these meanings back into public view. It recalled not merely the singer but also the Zubeen who opposed the CAA, criticised the BJP’s politics, rejected narrow identities and spoke in the language of solidarity and humanism. Whether one agrees with those positions is ultimately beside the point. What matters is that they formed an important part of his public life.The discomfort generated by the word “comrade” reflects a larger ideological context. Contemporary Assamese politics – and Indian politics more broadly – has witnessed the growing dominance of a right-wing vocabulary centred on nationalism, cultural identity and civilisational pride. Within such a framework, figures associated with socialist traditions, anti-sectarian politics or radical humanism can be celebrated culturally while their political significance is gradually minimised. The Rabha parallelAssam’s own history provides a striking example of this process.Outside the state, Bishnu Prasad Rabha is not widely known. Within Assam, however, he occupies a unique place in the region’s cultural and political imagination. Revered as Kalaguru, Rabha is remembered as a poet, playwright, singer, actor, painter and one of the most important architects of modern Assamese cultural life.Yet he was also much more than a cultural figure. He was an anti-colonial activist, a committed communist and a passionate advocate for peasants and indigenous tribal communities. Influenced by socialist ideas, he regarded culture as a social transformation. His songs, writings and performances were inseparable from his political commitments. Questions of inequality, exploitation and social justice were central to his worldview.Contemporary commemorations of Rabha often foreground his artistic achievements while paying comparatively less attention to the revolutionary politics that animated them. Every year, Rabha Divas is observed across Assam through cultural programmes and public tributes celebrating his immense contribution to Assamese culture. In schools, children learn Rabha’s songs, participate in Rabha Divas competitions and are introduced to him as one of the towering cultural figures of Assam. Institutions invoke his legacy as a symbol of Assamese pride, and generations continue to encounter him primarily as a cultural icon.Rabha’s contributions to Assamese literature, music and theatre are enormous and deserve continued recognition. Yet what is often less visible in these commemorative spaces is his life as a socialist organiser, his advocacy for peasants and workers, and his sustained critique of social and economic inequality.Narrowing of memoryThe comparison between Rabha and Zubeen is not exact. They belonged to different generations, operated within different political contexts and represented different traditions of cultural practice. Zubeen himself admired Rabha, described him as an inspiration and paid tribute to him through his music. In different ways, both of them came to embody a tradition in which culture was inseparable from larger questions of society and justice. If Rabha is remembered today primarily as a cultural icon despite his lifelong engagement with radical politics, the controversy surrounding the Ganeshguri mural raises the possibility that a similar narrowing of memory may now be taking place around Zubeen Garg. The danger is not that Zubeen will be forgotten. His place in Assamese cultural history is secure. The danger, rather, is that he will be remembered only partially. The singer will survive while the critic of communal politics fades into the background. The cultural icon will remain while the political actor becomes increasingly invisible.Bishnu J. is a freelance journalist focussed on the north-eastern region. He writes on caste, identity, representation, and the politics of storytelling.