It has been more than a month since Assam lost Zubeen Garg, the singer many called an icon. This Diwali, the festival of lights has not felt like Diwali for many people across the state. Instead of bright lights and loud laughter, there is a quiet mood. People are mourning. Shops that usually bustle with buyers are seeing far fewer customers. Families are staying home. The celebration, once full of sound and color seems muted and small.
In Udalguri, a town that usually puts on lively Diwali markets, shopkeepers say their sales are way down compared with last year. “It is not that anyone told us not to sell. There is no ban,” one shopkeeper told Northeast Scoop. “But people themselves are not interested in buying Diwali items this time.” He showed rows of lamps, colours and sweets waiting on his stall. The lights on his shop were on, but there were few buyers.
That same shopkeeper spoke about his feelings. He said he is sad like everyone else. He said he needed to put out goods to earn a living, but still saw that customers were not coming. “I am sad about the tragedy,” he said. “I put up Diwali goods because I must earn. But people are not buying.” 
Another shopkeeper in Udalguri gave a different reply. He said he is not worried about how his sales will go. “If I get good sale.. good. If not.. it is fate,” he told Northeast Scoop. He said he too is joining in the mourning for Zubeen Garg. For him, the festival feels less important while the whole state remembers the singer.
There are stronger feelings too. A third shopkeeper spoke with anger and pain. He demanded justice for Zubeen. He said people are not buying Diwali items because they are too hurt. He called for the culprits responsible for Zubeen’s death to be punished. “It is not about shop or sale for us now,” he said. “We are worried that Zubeen is no more. Those who took him from us must be punished.”
These voices from market stalls show how deep the sadness runs. It is not only about fewer purchases. The quiet shows a larger mood in towns and villages. People are posting memories online, lighting single diyas at home and attending small gatherings to remember Zubeen. Where there would normally be music and dance, there is silence and talk of the singer’s life and work. In that silence, the usual joy of lighting up homes feels wrong to some.
Event planners and small shop owners had hoped people would still celebrate. Many had stocked lamps, sweets, clothes and new toys. They had thought Diwali would bring customers, as it always has. But now, the usual flow of buyers is not happening in many places. In narrow lanes and big markets alike, footfall is thin. Sellers worry about earnings, but they also say they understand why people are quiet. “We are also part of the same community,” a vendor said. “We feel the loss too.”
Local youth groups and fans have organised low-key tributes across Assam. Some chose to turn regular Diwali gatherings into remembrance events. Others stopped group celebrations altogether and instead visited community spaces where fans had put up posters and candles. For many, celebrating in a big way feels wrong while questions around Zubeen’s death remain.
At the same time, not everyone has stopped celebrating. Some people say they will mark Diwali but in a simpler way. They are lighting fewer lamps, avoiding loud crackers, and keeping gatherings small. They say remembering Zubeen does not mean forgetting traditions. It only means adjusting how they celebrate this year.
Administrations and local leaders have not imposed any restrictions on buying or selling Diwali goods. Government offices have not announced bans on celebrations. The change in mood is coming from people themselves. It is a quiet, personal choice for most. In conversations in market lanes, in small tea shops and in households, the same line is heard: “We are mourning.”
As the candles burn low this Diwali, Assam seems to be holding its breath. The lights that usually chase away darkness are fewer and softer. People speak of Zubeen in quiet voices. They sing his songs in small circles. They ask for justice and for answers. For now, the festival feels different. It is softer, more somber and led by memory rather than celebration.
This Diwali will be remembered not for the number of lamps or the brightness of fairs, but for the way a whole state paused to mourn a man many loved. When the festivals return fully, people say they will celebrate again. For now, Diwali without Zubeen is a reminder of loss and of how deeply one life can touch an entire community.
