Although Rajesh Bhuyan’s Roi Roi Binale, written by and starring the late Assam icon Zubeen Garg, feels a tad too sentimental, it works because of its earnestness and its leading man’s ethereal presence
For the majority of the Indian crowd, the late Zubeen Garg’s influence as a singer, composer and neo folk hero feels grossly underestimated. The many startling stats aside, including the one that he sang over 40,000 songs in more than 40 languages in all of 33 years, Zubeen Garg’s emblematic presence across Assam and Northeast India is untapped among the masses at large, and easily worthy of a grand visual chronicle.
Whether any cinematic institution would be willing to share his story in the right manner, without diluting his decorum-defying authenticity and anti-establishment proclivities, is a concern best left for later. The avalanche of tributes and love for Garg after his tragic passing only a few weeks ago makes it very clear nevertheless that his legacy will linger in our collective memory for many years to come, the way other modern-day bards like Jim Morrison, John Lennon and Fela Kuti are still remembered.
In that vein, Rajesh Bhuyan’s new film Roi Roi Binale comes as the maiden celebration of the artist, combining many of his passions such as music composition, singing, filmmaking (as a co-producer) and acting. The film features Garg in the role of a visually impaired musician named Raul whose unadulterated view of life and materialism are fittingly in line with his own, and his millions of ardent admirers would be pleased to find that his final performance is a swansong in the literal sense. Garg’s restrained act of a charismatic yet ill-fated soul hits the mark in a film that is perhaps a bit too sappy for one’s liking, but still endearing enough to serve as a tribute in itself.
A musical communion at crossroads
When Raul reaches Guwahati, the city of dreams, it doesn’t take him long to realise that the new world around him wants to label him, even exploit him at times for his impairment. Raul chooses to make a mark on his own terms because he is a person of inner strength and strong ethics, and it so happens that his virtues attract kindred spirits who hold his hand, literally and figuratively, through the new journey. If the modest restaurant owner Debu gives him shelter without asking for a penny in return, musical talent manager Mousumi, or Mou (Mousumi Alifa), lends him the platform to be the breakthrough artist of the season.
Also read: Zubeen Garg obit: The voice that carried Assam’s love, longing and loss in its timbre
Neer (Joy Kashyap), one of Assam’s top singers at the moment, takes Raul under his wing at the same time, and this melange of characters soon transforms Roi Roi Binale into a nuanced tale of relationships, rather than a routine rags-to-rockstar story. Mou’s growing admiration for Raul impacts the equation she shared with Neer who, although not like the typical embittered third lead of a love story, starts to feel his life built on hard work to be gradually showing cracks. What begins as a musical communion reaches a crossroads, compelling all three to make difficult choices.
Both the tone and temperament of the film are reminiscent of an era from not too long ago, when sentimentality and earnestness made up for a broad-strokes approach. The music becomes a great tool to fill up the gaps, while the dialogue and overall staging of the drama remain simple and unfussy. Roi Roi Binale, based on a story written by Zubeen Garg himself, takes many other aspects of the present-day Assam into its fold, including its recent past’s grave troubles with insurgency and militancy. It won’t be a stretch to deem that Raul’s visible scars or tragedies are representative of the cultural and psychological impact that the region still carries with itself. In an attempt to paint a nuanced portrait, while simultaneously tending to its dramatic core, the film meanders a little and begins to grow tedious in the second half.
A troubadour, an accessible rock star
The central love story involving Raul, Neer and Mom goes a tad underexplored, and it becomes a bit unclear at one point as to what the film is really about. It doesn’t break any ground technically either. Yet, the film manages to keep us tethered to its soul, which somehow never overstates despite being melodramatic: the touch and sound of musical instrument heal a critically ill person, another person has a change-of-heart just when required, and many others contrivances occur timely, but Roi Roi Binale doesn’t bother us as much as it ought to.
Also read: Bhupen Hazarika at 100: The jajabor who sang of Assam, its people and the world
Could that be because it marks Zubeen Garg’s farewell? Quite possibly, but one couldn’t discount the fact that the film also knows how to emotionally tether us for most parts, without ever over-relying on the man himself. Each character gets its due and each of the backstories are made relevant to a story that is well-aware of its intent. If anything, Zubeen Garg adds gravitas to it all with his persona, navigating with his music as well as his words. The team, too, has confirmed recently that all his recordings are intact in the film, barring a few restorations done through AI.
There is little doubt that the homage video at the very end will be the film’s most memorable moment. Underscored by the reprised version of the titular track, the reel captures the spirit of a rare personality who used their fame and voice for the right reasons all along. Zubeen Garg was a troubadour, no doubt, but one whose modern identity made him an accessible rock star brimming with aura: fellow singer Alisha Chinai shares a story of how he once made Bollywood royalty Rakesh and Hrithik Roshan wait during a song recording, without feeling apologetic about it.
Garg never seemed like he was burdened with a task either, and the sense of abandonment is arguably what drew the people of his region so close to him. He was, as many suggest, unostentatious yet appealing, and his final film Roi Roi Binale is fitting to that image.
