Paresh Pahuja on Music, Movies, and Manifestation
More than just music, The Voice Notes Concert is Paresh Pahuja’s most personal storytelling experiment yet
Paresh Pahuja doesn’t chase convention.
He doesn’t intellectualize art. Instead, he follows it where it leads. He’s in search of an unfiltered kind of storytelling, whether through a lens, a lyric, or a lingering note on his guitar. To him, music and acting are simply different shades of the same pursuit: connection. It’s why his new project, The Voice Notes Concert, isn’t just a setlist—it’s a lived experience, pieced together from hushed confessions, raw melodies, and the kind of stories that settle in long after the final chord fades. “I wanted it to feel like a living room,” he says, “not a stage.”
It’s a philosophy that echoes across his career. The sniper in Tiger Zinda Hai, the brooding rockstar in Bandish Bandits, the many faces he’s embodied in between—each character and each song in medium feels less like reinvention and more like an artist carving out space on his own terms. In an industry that thrives on definition, Pahuja remains wonderfully unpinned.
He doesn’t force his characters into shape; he listens for their rhythm and follows it. And whether he’s on set or on stage, the goal remains the same: to create something that lingers, something that feels real.
In an exclusive conversation with Esquire, Paresh Pahuja delves into the music, the moments, and the magic of storytelling that make him the artist he is today.
Your concert tour is quite unique—you’re integrating music with storytelling. Tell me more about that and the vision behind it.
Paresh: To be honest, there was absolutely no vision. You can’t intellectualize art. If you try to logically plan everything step by step, it doesn’t always work. But if you let nature take its course, there’s a certain order in that chaos, and it’s beautiful. That’s how this concert started for me.
It came from a need—a need to express, to take control. As an actor, waiting for the next big opportunity can feel powerless because you’re so dependent on others. So, I asked myself, What’s in my hands? What can I do? Instead of feeling bad or resentful, I reminded myself—no one forced me to be an artist. So, I called a few musician friends I met on the sets of Bandish Bandits, invited them over, and we started jamming in my living room. That’s why the stage setup for this concert feels like a living room. We booked a venue, and while the music sounded great, I felt it needed something deeper—a spine, a soul—to connect all the songs together. That’s when Voice Notes came to me.
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But more than anything, I believe we are wired for stories. Especially me; I live for stories. That’s why I don’t choose between acting and singing. The Voice Notes Concert is my answer. It’s not just a concert—it’s a sit-down experience featuring six voice notes and twelve songs. When you book my show, you’re not just coming for music—you’re coming for a story.
Since you’ve balanced acting and music throughout your career, do you feel more like an actor who sings or a musician who acts? Is there one that resonates with you more?
Paresh: I’d say this—acting requires a lot of people. I need a director, co-actors, a crew—I’m dependent on so many others to make a film happen. Unless, of course, I do a monologue on stage. But with music… just before this call, I was fiddling with my guitar, and a new melody came to me, and suddenly, it turned into a new song. That kind of instant expression—music gives me that. I think music is the fastest way to connect with the divine, with the source. You just close your eyes, play something, and you have no idea where the melody comes from—you’re simply catching it. So, on a deeply personal level, music is my purest form of expression. But acting… I truly love it. The idea of living so many different lives fascinates me. I’ve played a fighter pilot, a drug addict, a sitarist—it’s like a crash course in another life. I get to step into someone else’s world and absorb lessons I wouldn’t otherwise learn. That’s what excites me about acting.
You’ve played such a diverse range—from Tiger Zinda Hai to Bandish Bandits—so what’s your creative process like?
Paresh: My process is actually very simple. Let’s say I had to play you. I wouldn’t focus on how you talk or walk, or all those technical things we’re traditionally taught in acting. What I would try to understand is—what is your energy like?
If I spent an hour with you, what feeling would I carry back? What is the fragrance of your soul? It’s intangible, something you can’t put into words. But once I find that essence in a character—whether it’s in the script or through my own observations—I build everything around it. For me, the walk, the talk, the dressing… all of that is secondary. It’s just a byproduct of understanding that core essence. And sometimes, it takes days to find it. But then, suddenly, in the most unexpected moment, it clicks. Oh, yes—that’s it. And once that happens, everything flows. You’re no longer acting—it’s just happening through you. That’s the moment I chase every single time.
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The indie music scene in India is thriving. With so many concerts and emerging artists, do independent musicians now have enough space, or does Bollywood still dominate?
Paresh: I don’t think it should be a competition. Indie music is growing, thanks to the internet and easy distribution. You could be sitting in the mountains, making a song, and upload it to Spotify within minutes. That accessibility is amazing.
One of the best things about this digital era is collaboration. You can connect with a musician anywhere and create something together. It has democratized music in a way that wasn’t possible before. Bollywood will always have a bigger reach—films inherently attract millions, and we, as a country, love cinema. But filmmakers today are more open to indie music. Look at Prateek Kuhad—his song was featured in Ted Lasso! That proves how far Indian independent music can go.
Every artist goes through creative slumps. How do you pull yourself back into your artistic zone?
Paresh: For me, it’s all about rituals. It’s easy to get lost in the noise—especially in the industry, where everyone has an opinion on what you should do.
When I feel stuck, I do something simple: I leave my phone behind and go for a walk. No distractions, just walking. It clears my mind. Journaling is another big one. I write three full pages, uncensored. Sometimes, I keep them; sometimes, I tear them up. But the process resets me.
And then, something a little unconventional—I write down a question I’m struggling with and ask for guidance. Some call it God, some call it the universe—I don’t have a name, but I believe in that energy. Most mornings, I wake up with the answer. If not, it comes in the middle of the night. For creative blocks, I highly recommend The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron and Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch. Both changed my perspective on creativity.
Is there something specific you’re manifesting for the future?
Paresh: Oh, everything. So much. And the more I do this, the more I realise—it’s not just for me. My experience is just a fraction of something much bigger.
When I get messages from people saying, I was battling depression for months, and on a cold winter night, I heard your song—it felt like a warm hug, and now I feel like I’m getting better… that’s when I understand there’s a greater purpose to what I’m doing. My job is to get out of my own way. Every time my ego creeps in—even at a concert—I remind myself: This isn’t about you. It’s happening through you. I’m just a medium, a vessel. And I’m grateful to have been chosen for this. What I’d love to manifest is something even bigger—more stadium concerts where people can just leave behind their past, future, worries, identities, and just be in that moment. Imagine a space where social status, last names, none of it matters—just pure connection. Moments like that help us understand life a little better, right? And if we can do that together with kindness, what could be a better manifestation than that?
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If you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?
Paresh: Don’t listen to any advice. (laughs)
Of course, not literally. But I’ve realised we’re wired to seek patterns—our brains resist new information because it takes extra effort. That’s why labels want the same kind of songs that worked before, why producers stick to formulas. It’s biology. So, I remind myself to be aware of that resistance. Every time you try something new, that little voice in your head will say, This is risky. This won’t work. But that’s just your logical self trying to protect you. The real magic happens when you trust something bigger than logic, when you take the leap even if it doesn’t make complete sense at the moment.