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In this exclusive interview with News18 Showsha, Euphoria’s frontman Palash Sen reflects on the band’s revolutionary journey through India’s music landscape. From the chaos of recording Dhoom on a shoestring budget to creating anthems like Maaeri, Sen opens up about the band’s fight against Bollywood..
. Read More For over three decades, Euphoria has pulsed as a vital heartbeat in India’s independent music scene, a band that dared to defy Bollywood’s dominance and etched their name as the architects of Hind Rock. Leading the charge is Palash Sen—doctor-turned-musician, visionary, and storyteller—whose unwavering passion has guided Euphoria from the raw, chaotic brilliance of their 1998 debut Dhoom to the sharp, satirical edge of 2021’s Sale.
With anthems like Dhoom Pichuk Dhoom and Maaeri, they didn’t just create songs—they sparked a cultural shift, fusing rock’s gritty energy with Hindi’s soulful depth and a middle-class spirit that still echoes across generations. Their recent electrifying performance at NH7 Weekender 2024, alongside the iconic Usha Uthup, wasn’t just a show—it was a triumphant nod to the indie movement they helped forge, a moment of vindication for a band that’s weathered decades of change. Reflecting on that unforgettable night in Indore , Palash Sen’s voice brims with pride as he recalls sharing the stage with a legend who blazed trails long before Euphoria’s time.
It’s a fitting milestone for a band born in 1988 with little more than a dream—to craft music unlike anything else and bring band culture to India’s mainstream. In this exclusive conversation with News18 Showsha, Palash, speaking for Euphoria with the warmth of a raconteur and the grit of a survivor, pulls back the curtain on their extraordinary journey. He revisits the serendipity of Shubha Mudgal’s classical magic on Dhoom Pichuk Dhoom, the 3 AM ep5 AM epiphany that birthed Maaeri, and the ₹2.
5 lakh scramble to birth their debut amidst chaos. He traces their evolution—from English roots to a Hindi rock revolution, from battling Bollywood’s stranglehold to reimagining Rajasthani and Punjabi folk in tracks like Kesariya Baalma and Saahiba.Palash lays bare the band’s soul—how they’ve stayed relevant by keeping their essence intact while embracing new voices and bold themes, from love to corruption.
With a 25th-anniversary re-recording of Dhoom and Phir Dhoom in the works, and dreams of collaborating with Beyoncé or Arijit Singh, he proves Euphoria’s fire still burns. Here are the excerpts: NH7 Weekender celebrates independent music. How does it feel to perform at a festival that carries the same spirit of indie music that Euphoria helped build and pioneer? Oh, it feels absolutely fantastic! NH7 Weekender has become such a vibrant celebration of independent music, and performing here is like coming full circle for us.
But what makes it even more special is sharing the stage with a true legend—Usha ji. She was doing independent music way before any of us, paving the way when the industry was still deeply rooted in film music. For the longest time, India’s music scene was dominated by Bollywood, and indie artists had to fight for their space.
But look where we are now—festivals like NH7 are thriving, the indie music movement is stronger than ever, and the spirit we believed in all those years ago is alive and kicking. It’s not just satisfying; it’s vindicating. Independent music is here to stay, and that’s something worth celebrating! You’re sharing the stage with Usha Uthup, another legendary artist.
What do you admire most about her, and can we expect any collaboration between the two of you? It’s an absolute honor and a privilege to share the stage with Usha Di! We’ve all been her fans for as long as we can remember, and she’s been such a massive inspiration. One of the things we’ve always done at Euphoria—especially at corporate shows—is sing in multiple languages. But if there’s one person who did it long before us and truly mastered the art, it’s Usha Di.
Usha Di deserves all the credit. She was one of the first to sing in English and then transition seamlessly to Hindi, all while keeping her music deeply rooted in Indian culture. That balance of Indian and Western influences? That’s something Euphoria has always believed in too.
As for a collaboration—well, that’s the magic of live music! Festivals run on tight schedules, but if we find a moment, who knows what might happen? Stay ready for a surprise! Euphoria is widely credited with pioneering Indian pop-rock (Hind Rock). What was the initial vision when you started the band in 1988, and how has it evolved over the years? I’ve always been honest about my journey, so here’s the truth—I had no grand vision when we started Euphoria in 1988. The only two thoughts in my head were: One, we had to create music that sounded like nothing else out there.
And two, we had to bring the band culture into the mainstream in India. Bands existed back then, but they were mostly English-language bands, which meant they never truly became the voice of the people. When Euphoria came in, the goal was simple—to make music that was uniquely ours and to prove that a band could thrive in the Indian mainstream.
And I still believe that a band is the best way to make music. You get different minds, different energies working together organically, creating something magical. That energy translates to the stage, and the audience feels it too.
Even today, many artists swear by solo performances, which is great, but if you look around, even Bollywood artists now perform with full bands. That was always my dream from day one. Back then, film singers performed with orchestras or even recorded backing tracks.
But for me, live music had to be live. No shortcuts, no compromises—just pure, raw, unfiltered music played by real musicians. And I’m proud that this idea has taken root in India.
Initially, the band wrote songs in English but later transitioned to Hindi. What prompted this shift, and how did it change the way you connected with audiences? Well, here’s the thing—English actually came more naturally to me than Hindi. I went to a Christian Brothers school, so my training in singing and songwriting leaned toward English.
But I self-trained in Hindi because I realized something crucial. We once did a concert in Delhi where we played 10 English songs and 10 Hindi songs—and the response to the Hindi songs was on another level. That’s when it hit me: Hindi is the language of the people.
Rock music in English? That’s been done to death. But rock music in Hindi? That was something fresh, something different. If we had stuck to English, Euphoria would have always been compared to global rock bands—it would have been an uphill battle to carve our own space.
But doing rock in Hindi gave us a unique identity. It wasn’t just about being “cool"—it was about being authentic and creating a sound that no one else in the world could replicate. At that time, only a few bands, like Junoon in Pakistan, were experimenting with something similar.
So while English rock might have given us a certain image, Hindi rock gave us something far more valuable—our own distinct voice. And that’s why we embraced it. Euphoria has endured for over three decades.
What do you think has been the biggest factor in maintaining relevance in an ever-changing music industry? When we started, I never imagined Euphoria would receive this much love and support for over three decades. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that good music—honest music—always finds its way to people’s hearts. Music made without the greed for money, fame, or commercial success is the kind that truly connects.
And I believe that’s why Euphoria has stayed relevant. We’ve evolved with time. Our themes have changed, our musicality has adapted, and younger musicians have brought fresh energy into the band.
But at the core of it all, we’ve kept the soul of Euphoria intact. While everything in life changes, the one thing that should never change is your essence. I always joke that we’re not the highest-paid band, not the most glamorous, and definitely not the most hyped.
But you know what? We are the most loved. And that, to me, is the biggest achievement. I say that with pride and conviction because love is the only currency that truly matters in music.
Dhoom Pichuk Dhoom was a massive cultural moment in the 90s. Did you anticipate the song would become an anthem for an entire generation? You know, I don’t take myself that seriously. I’ve never sat down thinking, This song is going to be an anthem or This will be a banger! Nowadays, everyone says, We’re going to drop a banger!—and honestly, I don’t get it.
How can you be so presumptuous about your own music? My philosophy has always been simple: Here’s the song. Give it a listen. If you like it, great! If not, we’ll work harder.
Maybe that’s the doctor in me talking. Being a doctor teaches you that the only real certainties in life are disease and death—everything else is just a dream. So when Dhoom Pichuk Dhoom was about to release, I told the band, Let’s give it our all.
But if this doesn’t work, we go back to our day jobs. We never imagined it would become an anthem. That’s why, to this day, I say it was the blessings of the Almighty and the love of the people that made it what it is.
Euphoria never got any real industry backing. Our music could have been used in so many places, but we were never the industry’s chosen ones. Instead, it was the people of this country who gave us their love.
And I have to say this—the media has always stood by us. Maybe it’s respect, maybe it’s a kind of unspoken connection, I don’t know. But whatever it is, I’m grateful.
The people, the media, and God—they’re the reason Euphoria is still here today. The song featured classical vocalist Shubha Mudgal, which was an unusual fusion at the time. How did that collaboration come about? I’ve always been a huge fan of Shubha ji.
At the time, she was primarily known for her incredible classical music. But for me, it wasn’t just about her voice—it was the way she carried her music, with such depth and authenticity. Now, here’s where fate stepped in.
My sister, Dahlia, is a copyright and patents lawyer, and Shubha ji happened to be her client. Dahlia would always tell me what a wonderful person she was. And I kept thinking, What if we could bring her voice into something completely new? One night, I was driving around with my little boy, Kinshuk, who was barely two years old.
Just me, him, and a lot of thoughts swirling in my head. At some point, I asked him—Kinshuk, how about we have Subha ji in the song? And in his little baby voice, he simply said, “Nice." Now, I’m a deeply spiritual person, and at that moment, it felt like a sign.
A child’s voice is the purest thing in the world—it felt like God was telling me, Go for it. So, without overthinking, I immediately called up Subha ji. And you know what? She agreed instantly.
Not only that, she refused to take a single rupee for it. That collaboration was pure magic—not just in my life, but I believe in the journey of music in this country. I’ll always be grateful to her.
What a fantastic woman. I love her to bits. Looking back at your debut album Dhoom, if you could recall some fond memories of creating it with the band and the fun you had in the process? Looking back, Dhoom wasn’t just an album—it was a nightmare to make.
And trust me, nobody had it tougher than my brother-in-arms, DJ Bhaduri, and me. Back then, everyone in the band had their own thing going on—day jobs, playing with other bands, commitments all over the place. So, getting them all in one place to record was chaos.
Imagine this: one guy shows up from 2 to 4 PM, another from 4 to 5, and the next guy? Maybe 6 PM...
or maybe not at all! Some days, we were just waiting, hoping someone would walk through the door. It was hellish. To make matters even crazier, we were signed by Archie’s Music, and they gave us just ₹2.
5 lakh to make the entire album. That’s peanuts. We had to record everything in just 11 days at a place called Studio Synthesis.
The struggle? Unreal. Even within the band, there was uncertainty. Amit Kilam (our drummer at the time) was already moving on to Indian Ocean.
The guitarists weren’t sure if they were staying. Our drummer? He just showed up for the video and then left. It was a mess.
But here’s the thing—I believe the universe saw the work DJ and I put in. Somehow, with barely any money, barely any support, and an insane amount of struggle, that album still became the album. The years leading up to 2010 were tough, but when I changed the lineup, everything transformed.
The last 15 years? The best years of Euphoria. Still, I’ll always say this to everyone who has ever played with Euphoria: I’m grateful. No matter what, I learned from every single one of them.
Maaeri remains one of your most beloved tracks. Can you take us behind the scenes of its creation? Was there a personal story behind the song? Maaeri came to me at around 3:30 or 4 AM—literally in my sleep. I woke up with the tune playing in my head and the word “Maaeri" lingering on my lips.
My mother is from Jammu; she’s Dogri, and in our culture, we call our mothers “Maa," “Maaye," and, more lovingly, “Maaeri." The word itself carries so much warmth, so much emotion. That night, I immediately called up my friend Jaideep Sahni—who was just a young writer at the time (he later became an incredible scriptwriter and lyricist).
I played the tune for him, and he simply said, “This is special. Let me write something." Jaideep wrote the Punjabi parts, and I wrote the Hindi sections.
Together, it became this deeply personal song—a boy pouring his heart out to his mother. And yes, that boy was me. I never imagined Maaeri would become an anthem.
But then again, every Euphoria song in some way, is my story. If you listen closely, you’ll realize—Euphoria is Palash Sen’s autobiography, told one song at a time. During the late 90s and early 2000s, Euphoria was essentially competing with Bollywood music.
What was the biggest challenge of carving out an independent space in that era? Oh, we’re still competing with Bollywood music. Bollywood didn’t just dominate—it took over around 2006-2007. And honestly, if I had to describe it, I’d call it nothing short of organized crime.
The way it was done...
well, that’s a story for another day. But let’s just say there was a deliberate effort to erase independent music—what was then called Indie Pop. The industry systematically absorbed everything into the Bollywood fold.
Most of the independent artists—Sonu Nigam, KK, Shaan, Bombay Vikings, all of them—who were making their own albums suddenly became Bollywood playback singers. Even the female artists of that era faced the same shift. It was brilliantly executed—credit where it’s due.
And then, we were one of the few left still making non-film music. That’s where we are even today. I’d say we enjoyed a solid decade of pop music dominance.
But the last 15 years? They’ve been a struggle. The fight we’re fighting today is way tougher than it was in the ’90s or early 2000s. Back then, pop music was still loved by audiences, and record labels were actually investing in it.
But things changed. And now, we’re still fighting harder than ever to keep independent music alive. Over the years, the band has tackled themes ranging from love and nostalgia to socio-political issues (Satyameva Jayate).
What topics inspire you the most today? You mentioned Satyameva Jayate, and yes, that’s just one of the many songs where we’ve tried to capture the reality around us. Euphoria has always been a middle-class band, and the struggles of the middle class are often misunderstood—by both the rich and the poor because they have their own struggles. Our songs reflect our reality—the same love, the same money problems, the same middle-class life.
We’ve explored so many themes. Sautela Shahar was about moving to a new city—I wrote that about Bombay. Then there was Mujhe Jeene Do, about terrorist attacks.
Satyameva Jayate, as you said, was about honesty being the best policy, but the entire album was about how everything is for sale now. Life, integrity, honesty, love, marriage—everything. And that’s what I wrote about.
But I have my own way of saying things—I don’t always spell them out. The only time I did? That was in Halla Bol. That song was a straight-up call to action.
Phir Dhoom built on your debut’s success. What was different about your approach to this album compared to Dhoom? The biggest difference between Phir Dhoom and Dhoom was that by the time we worked on Phir Dhoom, we had a steady band. Unlike during Dhoom, when our members were juggling multiple commitments and playing with different artists, this time, they were coming to Euphoria primarily.
That gave the album a much more cohesive sound—everyone was playing together, and the arrangements became much tighter. Even though I was still the one composing and writing, the collective effort in bringing the songs to life was much stronger. It’s a simple reality—when there’s money, loyalty tends to follow.
But then again, there were also those who, despite the success, neither stayed nor remained loyal. The tracklist of Phir Dhoom is quite diverse, from high-energy rock to introspective ballads. How do you decide the overall sonic and thematic flow of an album? The process of shaping an album’s tracklist is quite complicated.
For every album, I start with far more songs than we actually need—usually around 20 to 25. Then, along with DJ and Prashant, we begin the process of cutting them down. We ensure that the final selection not only sounds good together but also follows a certain narrative and sonic flow—what I like to call a “sonic democracy.
" At the same time, I strongly believe that every song in an album should sound distinct. I don’t subscribe to the idea that an album should have a uniform sound. Each track should stand on its own, and I’m proud that we’ve maintained that philosophy.
The diversity and versatility of Euphoria have always been defining traits—whether it’s rock, pop, or even a bhajan album like Sharnagat. No rock band in the world has done that. I truly hope that when the story of Euphoria is written, people recognize that this band has done far more than what Bollywood ever did.
In Bollywood, different composers create music for different films and styles, but we—one band—have created vastly different kinds of music across our albums. The only constant in all of them? Originality and honesty. After a long gap, you returned with Sale in 2021.
What inspired you to come back, and how had your creative process changed over the years? It’s interesting how Sale came to be. If you look at Euphoria’s album chronology—Dhoom (1998), Phir Dhoom (2000), Unconditionally (2003), Mehfooz (2006), Re Dhoom (2008), Item (2011), and Sharnagat (2013)—you’ll notice a pattern of regular album releases. However, between 2013 and 2021, instead of full-length albums, we focused on singles.
We released nearly 25 to 30 singles in those eight years, dropping a new song every couple of months. At some point, we realized that everyone was doing singles, so we decided to go back to making an album. Interestingly, every track on Sale was originally intended to be a standalone single, but we eventually put them together to create a cohesive record.
We approached its release in a way that allowed us to drop one video at a time, keeping the momentum going. Lyrically, Sale was deeply personal for me. The increasing commercialization of everything—music, life, even human relationships—was something that had been weighing on my mind.
That’s what led me to write Sabki Lagi Sale and, in many ways, inspired the album as a whole. The album’s title track, Sale, has a satirical tone about commercialization in the music industry. Do you feel independent music has become too focused on trends rather than artistry? Yes, Sale is packed with satire, and funnily enough, one of Bollywood’s so-called music supervisors once told me, “What is this? Indians don’t understand all this.
Indians only understand love." To which I replied, “Love is also on sale, bhai." I truly believe that we’ve commercialized almost everything—music, religion, politics, even sports.
I’m a huge cricket fan, but when I look at the IPL, I can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind the scenes. And then you hear real-life stories—like that judge with so much money stashed away that he had to burn it—and you start questioning everything. Those murmurs about corruption, about money influencing everything.
.. aren’t they all true at some level? The same skepticism extends to the music industry.
Over the years, artistry has taken a backseat to trends, algorithms, and virality. That’s exactly what Sale reflects—there are wheels within wheels, layers of meaning hidden beneath the satire. It’s one of the most intelligent songs I’ve ever written, but for those who truly want to understand it, there’s a lot to unpack.
Your daughter Kyna Sen was featured on Baavra. How was it collaborating with her, and do you think she’ll continue the Euphoria legacy? Kyna is the hidden gem in our family. My son, Kinshuk Sen, is also an incredible singer and actor—he’s currently making his mark in Hollywood.
He was part of the principal cast in Aditya Chopra’s Come Fall In Love, the musical adaptation of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, and they’re gearing up for another run in England. If you’re around, you should definitely watch it! Kyna, on the other hand, is a biochemistry student, and she’s always been a bit laid-back about her singing. Both my kids—Kinshuk and Kyna—are fantastic singers and actors, definitely better than me! But Kyna needed a little convincing.
When I first asked her to sing Baavra, she kept saying, “No, no, not me." Eventually, I told her, “The world needs to hear your voice." And when she finally sang, she did it with all her heart.
The way people have loved her voice since then makes me so proud. We also worked together on Mai Jaane Khuda, an eight-minute short film, where she sang a beautiful Dogri song—Dogri being my mother’s mother tongue. As for the future, I truly hope she considers performing arts as a career.
Fingers crossed! You reimagined Rajasthani and Punjabi folk music in tracks like Kesariya Baalma and Saahiba. What drew you to these cultural influences? That’s my other obsession—bringing Indian folk music to the world, but in a way that’s uniquely Euphoria. Not just recreating traditional folk, but reimagining it through our lens.
You can hear Rajasthani folk in Kesariya Baalma, Punjabi influences in Sajna, and a strong Marathi street music vibe in Unamerically. We’ve explored Bengali sounds in Dhoom Pichak, Punjabi again in Mairi, and even Tamil in Khamkha. Using Tamil in Khamkha wasn’t easy, but I loved the challenge.
And yes, if you ask whether it reflects the absurdity of life—absolutely! Love, for instance, often happens without logic. If you sit down and try to analyze it, there’s no clear answer. That’s exactly what Khamkha expresses—sometimes things just happen, and the only reason we laugh is because they do.
India is such a diverse country. Why shouldn’t our music reflect that? Khwaamkhaa explores the absurdities of life. Is there a personal philosophy behind this song? Absolutely.
Khwaamkhaa is all about the absurdities of life—how so many things happen without reason, yet we keep searching for meaning. If you think about love, for instance, it often makes no logical sense. It just happens.
That’s what Khwaamkhaa is trying to capture—the beauty and unpredictability of life. At the same time, the song also reflects a deeper frustration with the state of independent music. Bollywood still dominates because its music isn’t made for the sake of music—it’s a tool to promote films.
A whole business model is backing it, where revenue comes from multiple sources, so the music itself isn’t under financial pressure. But in independent music, the music is the film—it stands on its own, without that kind of safety net. I really hope that one day, a visionary entrepreneur steps in—someone like Mukesh Ambani or Gautam Adani—who truly believes in independent music and invests in it.
With today’s streaming platforms and revenue models, I’m certain there’s a way to make it financially viable. It just needs the right support. You’ve seen the evolution of music distribution from cassettes and CDs to streaming and NFTs (Sale was released as an NFT).
How do you feel about this digital shift? I’m all for the digital shift—it has taken music to greater distances, making it accessible to almost everyone. But I do feel that music had a certain magic in the past because people owned physical copies—cassettes, CDs, vinyl records—something tangible that felt personal. That sense of ownership is missing today.
Music is everywhere now, and while that’s great for reach, it also makes it feel less exclusive. It’s like if Amitabh Bachchan were in your house all the time, having tea with you, playing badminton—he wouldn’t feel like Bachchan Sahib anymore, right? Music, too, should have a certain rarity and specialness. That’s one of the reasons we explored NFTs with Sale—it brings back the idea of ownership in the digital age.
And I do believe that physical music will make a comeback. We’re already seeing vinyl records gain popularity again, and I think people will once more crave something they can hold and truly call their own. Many independent artists today rely heavily on social media for success.
Do you see this as a positive evolution, or does it take away from pure artistry? Social media has become incredibly important—it gives artists control over how they promote themselves and spread their music. But at the end of the day, if a song is truly good, it will find its way to people, even if the journey takes longer. Take Khwaamkhaa, for example.
We barely promoted it, yet it reached so many listeners because they genuinely loved it. Kesariya had the same organic reach. Then there’s Jaane Khuda, which became our highest-streamed song in years—it resonated with audiences far and wide.
The same happened with Baavra. So yes, social media is a powerful tool, and artists should use it. But I firmly believe that great music will always find its audience, no matter what.
After decades of making music, what’s next for Euphoria? Are there any dream collaborations or new directions you’d like to explore? Yes, there are exciting plans ahead! We’ve just signed with AWAL, a Sony subsidiary, for releasing Gola music. One of the biggest things on the horizon is the re-recording of our first two albums, Dhoom and Phir Dhoom, as a 25th-anniversary gift to all our fans—both old and new. These albums have been completely redone with a fresh 2025 sound.
As for dream collaborations, I’ve always had this wild dream of working with Beyoncé. It may not be the most realistic, but who knows? However, a collaboration that feels much closer to reality is one with my bro, Arijit Singh. To me, he’s not just an incredibly gifted and intelligent musician—he’s also one of the nicest people I’ve met.
He truly feels like family. I just hope I can create a song worthy enough for the both of us to sing together. I always believe in thinking positively!.
