The death of a cultural icon, Zubeen Garg, was not just the end of a man, but the beginning of a political theatre that exposed the uneasy relationship between power, public emotion, and justice.

What should have been a straightforward investigation into a tragic accident soon turned into a carefully choreographed display of political damage control. Within hours of the incident, the government, facing a furious fan base and a digitally charged Assamese public, announced the formation of a Special Investigation Team (SIT).

At first glance, this seemed like a gesture of accountability. But underneath, it carried a more strategic calculation: to absorb public outrage, not address it.

The Anatomy of Public Sentiment

With over 18 eyewitnesses had seen the incident unfold live, a tragic accident, no doubt, compounded by organizational negligence. But intent? None could establish it.

Still, in an emotionally charged environment, facts often play second fiddle to feelings. For many fans, Zubeen’s death wasn’t an accident; it was a betrayal. A breach of collective faith. The outpouring of grief quickly transformed into demands for criminal culpability.

The Chief Minister, a political heavyweight with an election on the horizon, saw the wave rising and instead of calming it, decided to ride it.

The SIT as a Political Shield

An SIT, in theory, is a professional mechanism to ensure impartiality. In practice, it can become a political cushion - a means to buy time, manage headlines, and keep control of the narrative.

The CM’s decision to constitute the SIT wasn’t about truth. It was about optics. To show decisiveness without delivering clarity. To channel the anger into a process, not a resolution.

But herein lies the paradox: when you ride a tiger of public outrage, you cannot dismount without being devoured.

If the SIT concludes that the death was accidental, as all evidence would likely suggest, the government risks alienating millions of emotionally charged fans. Yet, if the SIT hints at conspiracy, it sets in motion a chain of political and legal consequences that could backfire spectacularly.

Either way, the CM is cornered by his own optics.

A Deliberate Prolonging of Truth

With elections looming, the politically safest option is to delay. Stretch the investigation. Introduce layers - first an SIT, then a Judicial Commission under a sitting judge of the Guwahati High Court.

Each layer distances the truth by another mile. Each delay dulls the immediacy of anger. By the time a conclusion emerges, the emotional temperature would have cooled, and the narrative would have moved on.

This is not justice - it is strategic amnesia.

The Tragedy Beyond the Tragedy

Chief Minister, by choosing performance over principle, walks a tightrope between public empathy and political survival. The more he appeases sentiment, the more he imprisons himself within it.

In a culture where Zubeen symbolizes not just art but identity, any failure to deliver “justice” becomes a moral wound. The CM’s opponents will exploit it. His allies will whisper unease. And the public, forever suspicious of political motives, will remember the dance of delay more vividly than the death itself.

Ultimately, this crisis illustrates a larger truth about Indian politics: we no longer seek justice as a process - we demand it as spectacle.

When the final report comes, whether “accident” or “murder,” it will not end the debate. Because in the theatre of politics, truth is rarely what is proven. It is what is believed.

And in the case of this tragedy, belief has already chosen its villain.