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By:

C.S. Krishnamurthy

21 June 2025 at 2:15:51 pm

Ekta Bhyan, Quiet Gold

The strongest lessons in life rarely arrive with drumbeats. They come quietly, sit beside us, and stay long after the applause fades. I learnt this at the recent Peakst8 Festival in the world-class Padukone-Dravid Centre for Sports Excellence Bengaluru. The venue was full of ambition, energy, loud confidence and polished success stories. Yet, it was gold-winning para-athlete Ekta Bhyan who held my attention, not by raising her voice, but by lowering the noise around her. She was an integral...

Ekta Bhyan, Quiet Gold

The strongest lessons in life rarely arrive with drumbeats. They come quietly, sit beside us, and stay long after the applause fades. I learnt this at the recent Peakst8 Festival in the world-class Padukone-Dravid Centre for Sports Excellence Bengaluru. The venue was full of ambition, energy, loud confidence and polished success stories. Yet, it was gold-winning para-athlete Ekta Bhyan who held my attention, not by raising her voice, but by lowering the noise around her. She was an integral part of a panel discussing what it takes to reach the Olympics. Others spoke of pressure, fame and sacrifice. Ekta spoke of routine. Of turning up. Of patience. There were no heroic flourishes in her words. Each sentence was measured, calm and grounded. Listening to her, I sensed a deep reserve of experience. She was not trying to impress. She was simply explaining how life had unfolded. A spinal injury, in 2003, had left her paralysed. This is usually where stories pause for sympathy. Ekta’s does not. She spoke of rebuilding, not rebelling. Of learning what the body could still do, and then working patiently within those limits. Para sport entered her life quietly, not as rescue, but as direction. Over time, she found her space in the F51 club throw, a demanding discipline where balance, precision and control matter more than force. What stayed with me was her restraint. She mentioned podium finishes only in passing. International meets, Asian Para Games, world championships, all appeared briefly and then moved aside. Even the gold medal she had earned was referred to almost casually, as one would mention a milestone on a long road. For her, medals are not destinations. They are confirmations. Steely Discipline Ekta spoke about training. It is not exciting, she said. It repeats itself. Progress hides. Muscles resist. The mind looks for shortcuts. Yet commitment must remain steady. She described days when success meant completing a session without excuses. On some mornings, it was finishing gym work despite fatigue. Evenings meant outdoor practice, carefully timed because regulating body temperature is a constant challenge after spinal injury. For nearly three years, she has not missed a single day of training. With limited muscle use and only about forty per cent lung capacity, each session needs careful planning. Her shoulders are her strongest allies. Other muscles cooperate less. Fingers offer no strength at all. Still, she works with what she has. Over the last four years, this discipline has translated into results. Gold medals at national championships. A bronze at the Asian Para Games. Gold and bronze at the World Championships in Paris in 2023. This season alone, she added gold at the Indian Open Paralympic Championships and a silver soon after. Her personal best stands at 21.5 metres, and she speaks of improving it, not defending it. There was a gentler revelation too. As a young girl, Ekta had once dreamt of becoming a doctor. She wanted to heal. Life rewrote the syllabus. Yet, listening to her, I realised she still heals. Not with medicine, but with example. Her journey treats assumptions and restores belief, quietly and effectively. Human Moment After the session, when the crowd thinned, I walked up to her with my notebook. I asked for her autograph, expecting a quick signature. She paused, asked my name, and wrote hers carefully. That small act reflected everything she had spoken about. Presence. Respect. Attention. Her daily life, she earlier shared, is not simple. She needs two people to help with routine movements, from transferring to travel. Public transport is impossible. Every trip requires planning, space and expense. Often, she bears the cost for three people, not one. Yet, she spoke of this without complaint. The harder challenge, she said, is mindset. People with disabilities are still seen as separate from the mainstream. Expectations are lowered, often disguised as kindness. Ekta resists this quietly. Her competition is internal. Yesterday versus today. Comfort versus effort. Paralysis, she believes, is a condition, not an identity. As I left the venue, the applause felt inadequate. Not because it was soft, but because her journey asks for reflection, not noise. Ekta Bhyan reminds us that ambition can change shape without losing meaning. That success does not always announce itself. Sometimes, it arrives quietly, balanced and consistent. Her strength lies not only in the distance she throws, but in the steadiness she maintains. And in that quiet balance, Ekta Bhyan offers us something rare. A lesson that stays long after the hall has emptied.   (The writer is a retired banker and author of ‘Money Does Matter.’)

The Voice of the Northeast That Echoed Across India

Zubeen Garg (1972–2025)
Zubeen Garg (1972–2025)

Zubeen Garg, the iconic singer, composer, actor, and cultural ambassador of Northeast India, passed away on September 18, 2025, at the age of 52, following a tragic scuba diving accident in Singapore. The news sent shockwaves through the music world, leaving fans, colleagues, and the Assamese community in profound grief. Known as the “Heartthrob of Assam” and a multifaceted artist whose voice bridged regional folk traditions with Bollywood glamour, Garg’s untimely death marks the end of an era for Indian music. He was rushed to a hospital after sustaining injuries during the dive but succumbed while undergoing treatment in the intensive care unit. His passing has prompted an outpouring of tributes from across the nation, with many remembering him as a symbol of resilience, creativity, and unyielding passion for his roots.


Born Zubeen Borthakur on November 18, 1972, in Tura, Meghalaya, to an Assamese Brahmin family, Garg’s early life was steeped in artistic influences. His father, Mohini Mohon Borthakur, was a magistrate by profession but a poet and lyricist known under the pseudonym Kapil Thakur. His mother, the late Ily Borthakur, was a talented singer, dancer, and actress who nurtured his musical inclinations from the tender age of three. Garg often credited her for his initial training, recalling how she taught him to sing before he could even speak properly. The family moved frequently due to his father’s job, exposing young Zubeen to diverse cultures across Assam and beyond. He honed his skills in tabla under Pandit Robin Banerjee for 11 years and delved into Assamese folk music with Guru Ramani Rai. Academically, he completed his matriculation at Tamulpur Higher Secondary School and began a Bachelor of Science at B. Borooah College in Guwahati but dropped out to pursue music full-time. Tragedy struck early in his personal life when his younger sister, Jongki Borthakur, an aspiring actress and singer, died in a car accident in 2002. In her memory, Garg released the poignant album Xixhu, a testament to his deep familial bonds. He married fashion designer Garima Saikia Garg in 2002, and the couple shared a quiet life away from the spotlight, with Garg openly declaring himself irreligious and free from caste constraints.


Garg’s career ignited in 1992 when he won a gold medal for his western solo performance at a youth festival, propelling him into the professional arena. That same year, he released his debut Assamese album Anamika, which quickly established him as a rising star in regional music. Albums like Xapunor Xur, Junaki Mon, Maya, and Asha followed, blending folk elements with contemporary sounds. His first bihu album, Ujan Piriti (1995), became a commercial hit, capturing the festive spirit of Assam. Eager to expand his horizons, Garg relocated to Mumbai in 1995, diving into the competitive Bollywood scene. He debuted with the Indipop album Chandni Raat and contributed to films like Gaddaar (1995), Dil Se (1998), Doli Saja Ke Rakhna (1998), Fiza (2000), and Kaante (2002).


The turning point came in 2006 with “Ya Ali” from the Bollywood film Gangster, a haunting Sufi-rock anthem that catapulted him to national fame. The song, with its emotive lyrics and Garg’s powerful vocals, became an instant chart-topper, earning him the Best Playback Singer award at the Global Indian Film Awards (GIFA). It remains one of his most enduring hits, often cited as a milestone that introduced Northeast talent to mainstream India. Building on this success, Garg delivered more Bollywood gems like “Dil Tu Hi Bataa” from Krrish 3 (2013), a romantic melody that resonated with audiences for its heartfelt delivery. In regional cinema, his Assamese tracks like “Jajabor” – a masterpiece of modern Assamese music blending wanderlust and emotion – solidified his status as a cultural icon. Critics hailed it as a timeless piece, reflecting Garg’s nomadic spirit and love for his homeland.


Garg’s repertoire extended beyond Assam and Hindi. In Bengali cinema, he enchanted listeners with “O Bondhu Re” from Premi (2005), a soul-stirring ode to friendship, and “Piya Re Piya Re” from Chirodini Tumi Je Amar (2008), which captured the essence of young love. Garg’s voice wasn’t confined to playback; he composed and directed music for films, winning the National Film Award for Best Non-Feature Film Music Direction for Echoes of Silence in 2009 at the 55th National Film Awards.


Beyond music, Garg was a prolific actor and filmmaker. He debuted in acting with the Assamese film Tumi Mur Matho Mur (2000) and appeared in Bollywood cameos, including in Gangster and Strings (2006). His directorial venture Mission China (2017) was a blockbuster, blending action with patriotic themes, while films like Kanchanjangha (2019) showcased his storytelling prowess. Over his career, he amassed numerous accolades, including multiple Best Music Director and Best Playback Singer awards from regional bodies. In 2024, he received an honorary Doctor of Literature (D.Litt.) from the University of Science and Technology, Meghalaya, recognizing his contributions to arts and culture. Zubeen Garg’s death leaves a void in Indian music, but his melodies will endure, inspiring generations. He is survived by his wife, Garima, and a legion of fans who will forever hum his tunes. As one fan aptly put it, “Zubeen wasn’t just a singer; he was the soul of Assam.” Rest in peace, maestro.


(The writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

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