Paresh Pahuja Reveals How He Built The 'Voice Notes Concert' To Feel Like A Movie: 'I Want People To...' | Exclusive

In this exclusive conversation with News18 Showsha, Paresh opens up about everything—from the original spark behind the idea, to why he obsesses over the placement of plants on stage. He shares how a fictional character (Mahi from Bandish Bandits) pushed him toward real-life vulnerability, why he doesn’t believe in separating genres from emotion, and the reason he keeps the audience size small: not for exclusivity, but intimacy.

There are no grand declarations here. Just a genuine artist, chasing connection over perfection. Whether he’s singing “Dooron Dooron," sketching a love story through eyes in Kaari Kaari, or designing a show that changes city by city, Paresh Pahuja isn’t just performing—he’s reaching out. And asking you to feel something true.

Here are the excerpts:

You’ve called The Voice Notes Concert a “cinematic exploration of modern love," which is such a striking phrase. What was the moment or feeling that first sparked the idea?

Honestly, it started after I watched this beautiful film called Past Lives. Something about it really stayed with me. I walked out of the theater and immediately felt like writing—but not for a specific project. I didn’t want to wait around for someone to hand me a story like that. I wanted to create something of my own.

So I started writing—just two characters, a love story, something set in Bombay. Two people figuring out their love life and their careers at the same time. I didn’t even know what I was writing at first—was it a film, a play, something else? I just knew I had to get it out.

At the same time, I had this sudden, almost urgent desire to be on stage again. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but it felt important. That kind of connection you get with yourself and the audience—it’s powerful.

So I called some of my friends—people I’d met on Bandish Bandits—and we started jamming. The first day was magic. The next day was even better. We were all enjoying the original music, and I just said, “Let’s perform." We booked a small venue, thinking it would be a simple gig with friends and family. But even then, something felt incomplete.

And then it just clicked—this idea of using voice notes and storytelling to build an emotional arc. Suddenly, everything made sense. I realized I could create this immersive experience live, instead of waiting for someone to offer it to me. That’s how it all came together.

The show has 12 songs and 6 voice notes—was the story built around the songs, or did the songs follow the voice notes? What came first?

It was actually a bit of both. There were certain songs we knew had to be part of the set, either because they were already released or just felt emotionally right. But the challenge was: how do we make those songs serve a larger story? That’s where the voice notes came in.

So, in some cases, I wrote voice notes to fit around the songs. In others, I had to let go of a few tracks that didn’t quite fit the narrative we were building. It was this constant back-and-forth—letting the story shape the music and letting the music inform the story. It was messy, but beautiful.

Voice notes are such an intimate form of expression—it’s like you’re catching someone mid-thought. How did that influence the storytelling?

That was actually a big part of the concept. I thought: If you’re a musician—and someone’s living with you—you’re constantly catching melodies, humming lines, recording scraps of thoughts. My brother’s an indie artist too, and we both do this all the time. Our phones are filled with random recordings.

So I thought, what if a love story was told through six voice notes, captured at different points in a relationship? They wouldn’t follow a traditional structure, but if you heard them in sequence, you’d feel the entire arc—love, confusion, connection, distance. It became a device for non-linear storytelling that still felt emotionally clear.

You’ve mentioned Past Lives as a key influence, but I know La La Land really left an impression on you too. What emotional textures or moments from that film found their way into this concert?

La La Land is honestly one of my favorite films—I still watch it once a month, no shame. That opening scene, “Another Day of Sun," just lifts me. It’s pure cinematic joy. But beyond that, the way the film blends music and heartbreak… that really hit me.

After I watched it, I was constantly jamming on my piano, playing City of Stars, just feeling that world. Eventually, one of those jam sessions led to this melody that had a very jazz-La La Land vibe to it. I called my friend Siddhant, we wrote lyrics, and that song became Jagmaga.

Oh I love Jagmaga! I was listening to it earlier—it’s got such a dreamy, jazzy flow.

Yes! That song means a lot to me. In fact, we performed it in Chandigarh with Lisa as a guest performer—she added such magic. It’s that kind of Singing in the Rain moment I’ve always wanted to recreate. And since I come from both music and acting, I’ve always dreamed of merging the two—creating a show that feels like you’re watching a movie live on stage. Blurring that line between cinema and theater… that’s where the magic is for me.

You’ve called it “Paresh Pahuja & Friends," which says a lot in itself. What role did your collaborators play in bringing this show to life?

Honestly? Every role. This show wouldn’t exist without my friends. From the very first call—to the musicians coming in, jamming, building arrangements, to people helping direct and produce—it’s all friends. It’s a community project at heart.

I feel really lucky. That’s what gave me the courage to make that first call—because when you have friends who believe in you, it’s easier to take risks. We started with this small concert we just threw together. No big plan, no team, just vibes. It went viral. And suddenly, here we are—on tour. All of that happened in just six months. It still blows my mind.

Your sound blends so many genres—pop, indie rock, Bollywood, even jazz. How do you decide which emotion belongs to which sound?

To be honest, I don’t think in genres. I’m not someone who studied music theory deeply, so I don’t approach it technically. It always starts with the emotion. If the emotion feels truthful and real, that’s my anchor. The rest comes later.

That’s where my collaborators come in. They’ll hear something I wrote and say, “Hey, this feels jazzy," or “This has a blues vibe," and then we shape the arrangement together. But the core of it—the feeling—that always leads.

I want to ask you about “Dooron Dooron." It’s such a defining song, and it’s touched people across the country—and even beyond. What’s the story behind it, and how has your relationship with it evolved?

Oh man, that song has been such a journey. We rehearse it every day, I perform it all the time, and still—not once have I gotten bored of singing it. Every single time, it hits me differently. Every time, it feels more personal.

The fact that people have taken that song and given it their meaning—that’s the dream. I remember watching Coldplay live in Paris years ago. They were performing Fix You, and 90,000 people were singing along. You couldn’t even hear Chris Martin—the whole stadium was singing “Lights will guide you home." People were crying. That moment stuck with me. I remember thinking: I want to create something so personal, yet so universal, that people feel like it’s theirs.

That’s the goal. To make something honest—and hope that somehow, somewhere, it connects. That’s what keeps me going. Because at the end of the day, that’s what we’re all trying to do, right? Connect. Through music, through art, through science—just trying to understand life a little better. Together.

You’ve intentionally kept the audience size limited to create intimacy. What does intimacy mean to you in a performance context—and how do you protect that, especially when the stage gets bigger?

That’s a great question. For me, intimacy means emotional clarity. When I’m singing about love, heartbreak, or longing—I want the audience to really feel it, the way I do. And if I can only deliver that honestly to 100 people, then that’s who I’ll perform for. I’d rather give my whole self to a smaller room than do it halfway for thousands.

Also, the size of The Voice Notes Concert is kind of selfish in a good way—I wanted to create the kind of concert I would want to attend. The kind where you’re seated, fully immersed, and it feels like you’re watching a film unfold live. But not just watching—you’re in it. Like you’re one of the characters.

That’s where the whole idea of immersiveness came in. That said, one day, I’d love to perform for 90,000 people. And I’d want to keep that intimacy intact. Like when Chris Martin sings “Fix You" and somehow, everyone in the crowd feels like he’s singing directly to them. That’s something I hope to learn—and embody—someday.

What’s one small detail in the show most people might miss, but you’ve placed there for the deeply observant?

Oh, there are so many. Honestly, we’ve planted little layers throughout the experience.

One of the things I love is that no two shows on the tour are exactly the same. Even though it’s the Voice Notes Concert India Tour, each city gets its own slightly altered version. We tweak the setlist. We invite different guest performers. We change small transitions or moments to reflect the vibe of that city. It keeps it alive—for us and for the audience.

But yeah, if you’re paying attention, you’ll notice those little changes, those Easter eggs. It’s for the people who really watch a performance, not just hear it.

You move between acting and music constantly. What role do you feel more vulnerable in—Paresh the actor or Paresh the musician?

Honestly? Both. There’s no “half vulnerability" in art. You can’t go halfway with either.

Whether I’m acting or singing, the emotional nakedness is the same. How you do anything is how you do everything—and for me, that means showing up fully every time. Being a musician doesn’t feel less exposed than being an actor. It’s all the same heart—just different languages.

Speaking of acting—you played Mahi in Bandish Bandits Season 2. He’s such a layered character. You kind of start off disliking him, then slowly begin to understand him, maybe even root for him. What was that experience like for you?

Playing Mahi changed my life, honestly. It was one of those roles that made me feel seen and heard—which is all an actor can really hope for. The response to that character… it opened so many doors for me, not just in acting but also in music.

Working with Amit and the entire team at Leo Media never felt like “work." It was immersive, emotional, collaborative—everything you dream of as an actor. And yeah, learning the sitar for the role? That was tough. But it gave me such a deep respect for classical musicians and their discipline.

And funny enough, Mahi actually became the starting point for The Voice Notes Concert. That performance gave me the push to step more fully into music. So I owe a lot to that character. I really hope the story continues—I think there’s still so much to explore with Mahi, and I’d love to revisit him if they bring him back.

When you’re creating something so emotionally layered—like this concert, night after night—how do you protect your own emotional boundaries? Or can you?

Honestly… you can’t. Not really. Not if you want to be honest on stage.

Emotions are contagious. Audiences can sense everything. If I try to hold back or fake something, they’ll feel it immediately—even if the performance is technically perfect, they’ll know something’s missing. That’s why I have to show up fully, every single time.

Of course, it’s exhausting. But that’s part of the deal. You just learn to deal with it in your own way—offstage. But when I’m up there, I can’t protect myself. I don’t want to. I think artists should indulge emotionally. That’s where the magic is. That’s where connection lives.

What’s something you learned about yourself while creating this tour—something you didn’t know before?

That I’m a lot more emotional than I thought I was.

I know that sounds simple, but it really hit me during the tour. Even a month ago, if you had asked me about protecting emotional boundaries on stage, I might’ve said, “Yes, of course, you can manage it. You can compartmentalize." But I’ve realized—through this process—that I feel everything. I get emotional about the tiniest details: the lighting, the color of a rug, the way a plant sits on stage. And it’s not about being perfectionist—it’s that every detail matters to the emotional truth of the moment.

This tour has taught me that I don’t just create—I care. Deeply. Maybe even obsessively. And that’s a side of me I hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

You’ve talked about wanting to redefine the concert experience in India with this tour. What do you hope the Indian concert scene looks like in five years—and how does this concept push it forward?

I really hope I’m contributing something meaningful to India’s concert culture. Right now, we’re seeing this beautiful boom—international artists are touring here, Indian artists are filling stadiums, and there’s real momentum.

But what I’d love to see is diversity—not just in genre, but in formats. I want a future where there are all kinds of concerts: big, small, immersive, intimate, loud, quiet. Where a sit-down storytelling concert like mine can coexist with a massive EDM show or a classical music night—and each has its own loyal audience.

That’s actually what The Voice Notes Concert stands for. On paper, a narrative-led concert with voice notes and emotional arcs doesn’t sound like a “sure thing." But we’ve sold out venues. We’ve proven there’s an audience for everything—if it’s honest and well-crafted.

So if I had to say one thing to other artists, it would be this: Experiment. Try. There is room for your voice. There is an audience out there that wants what you’re creating—even if it doesn’t look like the mainstream. Let’s build a scene where all those voices are heard.

I absolutely loved your recent track “Kaari Kaari." It’s rich with sonic layers, but what really struck me was the visual storytelling. How did you approach that side of it—the visual world of the song?

Thank you so much. Honestly, “Kaari Kaari" started with this melody that kept haunting me. I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I recorded it, scribbled down some words, and it started to take shape. But then I thought—this song needs a visual narrative.

While writing, I noticed this recurring pattern: I’m obsessed with eyes. I’m always observing people’s eyes—their shapes, their expressions. There’s something deeply intimate about them. I’ve always felt that eyes are the windows to the soul. My first song was Mascara, and even that was centered around eyes.

So I asked myself: what if this story didn’t feature a girl at all, but was still completely about her eyes? That’s when the idea of sketching came in—drawing her, painting her, building her presence through memory and imagination, not appearance. That felt more powerful, more poetic. It was less literal, more emotional—and it clicked.

Well, you clearly have a visual mind. Will we see more music videos directed by you in the future?

I’d absolutely love that. I genuinely enjoy that part of the process—building visual worlds that match the emotional tone of the music. I’ve started seeing music videos less like add-ons and more like short films or visual poems. So yes, that’s definitely something I want to explore more deeply going forward.

Last question—what’s the one thing you want people to walk away with after the final note of The Voice Notes Concert fades?

Magic.

I want people to believe in love—every kind of love. Romantic, platonic, messy, quiet. I want them to walk out feeling something electric in their chest. Like they just remembered something important about being human.

We don’t have to understand love. Understanding is a logical process. Love isn’t. It’s not meant to be explained—it’s meant to be felt, exchanged, lived in. That’s the energy I want to fill the room with. That’s what I hope they carry home with them.