Roi Roi Binale arrived with the sort of energy you can’t manufacture. People were already lined up outside theatres in Guwahati long before the first show, chatting about scenes they hadn’t even watched yet, humming old Zubeen Garg tracks like they were warming up for something. And honestly, it felt like they were. The film wasn’t just a release, it was a moment everyone understood instinctively. A final glimpse of an artist who shaped so much of the region’s sound and soul.
So when word started spreading that leaked clips were floating around online, the mood turned sharply. Not outrage, exactly, but a quiet, collective annoyance, the kind that says: come on, not this film.
By 13 November, the police in Lakhipur picked up a YouTuber named Rafiqul Islam. A guy most people had never heard of suddenly found himself tied to a story that was travelling faster than his entire channel ever had. Investigators say he posted unauthorised clips from the film, and that alone was enough to set off alarms in the team behind it.
Producer Shyamantak Gautam didn’t wait around for the usual backstage whispering that follows piracy cases. He went straight to the Cyber Police Station in Panbazar and filed the complaint himself. A small thing, but it changed the tone completely. Usually, these things drag or get brushed aside. This time, the response was immediate. Sharp. Almost symbolic.
Police filed the case under pretty much every law that applies to digital theft, right down to the Cinematograph Act and parts of the Bharatiya Nyay Sanhita. It was the legal equivalent of a loud knock on the table. Rafiqul was produced before the magistrate and handed three days in custody while officers poked through devices and traced whatever digital footprints they could find.
But the truth is, the legal details aren’t what made this story take off. It’s everything swirling around the film itself. Roi Roi Binale wasn’t even two weeks old in theatres and had already pulled in around sixteen crore. That number might not raise eyebrows in Mumbai or Hyderabad, but for Assamese cinema, it’s a milestone that hits different. The kind that makes people feel protective of the homegrown industry they’ve been cheering on for years.
And Zubeen’s presence, even in silence, sits at the centre of it all. His last performance. His final bow. Audiences walked in already emotional, already aware of the weight of what they were seeing. When a clip leaks from a film like that, it doesn’t feel like someone trying to steal content. It feels like someone cutting into a memory you haven’t even finished making.
Fans picked up on that immediately. Social feeds were full of people urging others not to share the videos, telling friends to watch the movie in theatres, reminding everyone that this one deserves respect. It wasn’t moral policing. It felt more like people defending something fragile.
There’s also a practical layer the industry can’t ignore. Piracy hurts smaller film ecosystems more because they don’t have giant distribution webs or huge promo budgets cushioning them. One leak can shave off thousands of potential ticket sales. And when a film is on a record-setting run, even a few lost shows sting.
The question now is what the investigation turns into. Maybe it ends with this single arrest. Maybe more names show up. Maybe nothing happens for months and then suddenly a second round of action takes place. Assam’s filmmakers are watching because what happens here could shape how future releases protect themselves.
But if we zoom out a bit, the whole thing has only added another layer to the story. People haven’t stopped watching the movie. If anything, the buzz feels louder. Theatres are still filling up. Conversations around Zubeen have only grown more nostalgic, more affectionate. The leak hasn’t dimmed the moment. It’s sharpened it.
There’s something strangely fitting about that. A beloved artist, a record-breaking film, a community rallying around it, and a piracy case that unexpectedly turns into a show of unity. These things usually derail a release. Here, it became another reason for people to show up.
And maybe that’s the real heart of it. Assam didn’t treat this like a crime story. They treated it like someone trying to smudge a photograph they weren’t done looking at. And the reaction was simple: not this photo. Not this film. Not today.
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Sana has been covering film, fame, and everything in between for over a decade. From red carpets to rehab rumors, she brings nuance, wit, and an insider’s edge to every story. When she’s not reporting, she’s probably watching Koffee With Karan reruns or doom-scrolling celebrity IG feeds.
