Rasha Thadani on Carving Her Path With Gratitude and Courage
Rasha Thadani moves through the spotlight with quiet joy, faith, and growth as she carves her own path across cinema and music.
Joy is the first thing you notice about Rasha Thadani. Not the performative kind, not the curated kind—but the quiet, infectious joy of someone who genuinely loves what she does.
She speaks about work the way most people speak about home—with warmth and belonging. Entering the industry at a time of unprecedented visibility, she is acutely aware of the scrutiny that comes with it, yet remarkably untouched by fear. “I love my work. I genuinely love waking up every day and being on set,” she says. “When I don’t get to do that, I actually feel incomplete.”
For Rasha, the hours don’t matter. The early mornings, the late nights, the endless takes—none of it registers as labour. “No matter how early in the morning or how late at night it is, it never feels like work to me—it feels like joy,” she says.
Whether she’s on a film set, performing on stage, or dancing alone in a studio, the feeling remains constant. Gratitude, she insists, is at the heart of it all. And fear? Surprisingly absent. “I don’t think there’s anything that really scares me right now,” she admits. “I just hope I keep working harder and harder and continue to grow.”
That assurance didn’t arrive overnight—it’s something that feels almost innate. Long before she understood the mechanics of the film industry, Rasha knew she belonged to the world of performing arts. “I think I always knew…even before I fully understood what the industry was, honestly,” she tells us. Protected from the spotlight while growing up, she found her calling in small, instinctive moments—dancing in front of mirrors, playing with toy microphones, singing simply for fun. “As I grew older, I realised performing arts made me genuinely happy. Acting, dancing, music—it always felt natural.”
Today, that instinct is evolving into experience. Having begun her journey in Bollywood, Rasha is now stepping into South cinema—a transition she speaks about with genuine excitement. “It’s a new language, a new industry, and there’s so much to learn—which is actually amazing,” she shares. While the rhythm of set life feels familiar, the scale doesn’t. “There is a certain larger-than-life scale in South cinema that’s really fascinating. I feel very lucky to be a part of something like that.”
Luck, however, is only part of the story. Her debut song— Uyi Amma from Azaad [2025]—marked a defining moment. One that the audience embraced wholeheartedly, even if Rasha herself is still catching up emotionally. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve processed it yet,” she says with a smile. “I feel like I’m still living in a dream.” The validation arrives unexpectedly—through Instagram reels, comments, and strangers engaging with her work. “Sometimes I’ll be scrolling and suddenly see a reel using the song, and it feels surreal.” But before that joy, came nerves—real, visceral ones. “A 100 per cent,” she says when asked if she was nervous before the release. “I was counting the hours that day and calling Pragya [Kapoor, the producer of the film] ma’am every two minutes asking what was happening.” It was the first time she was putting something out entirely on her own, and the weight of that responsibility was overwhelming. “It felt like everything was on my shoulders. I was terrified—but also hopeful.” By the end of the day, fear gave way to something else entirely. “It turned out to be really special.”
Being introduced as Raveena Tandon’s daughter is a reality Rasha embraces without defensiveness. Her relationship with legacy is grounded in pride, not pressure. “My nana [maternal grandfather], Ravi Tandon, was a director, and I’m incredibly proud of my family and everything they’ve achieved,” she says. Comparison, she believes, is pointless. “I don’t think I could ever reach what they have, and I’m not trying to compete with that. What matters to me is making them proud.” Her nana and dada [paternal grandfather] remain her quiet guiding forces. “Before I start anything new, I look at their photographs and remind myself to try my best.” That grounding presence feels especially poignant given that she never explicitly spoke to her nana about becoming an actor. “Not directly,” she admits. “It was more subconscious. I think everyone just knew this was something I wanted to do.” When she signed her first film shortly after his passing, the timing felt deeply emotional— “It felt like his blessing.”
If acting feels like destiny, music feels like memory. “It was probably my first love—even before acting or dancing,” Rasha says. Years of training, riyaaz from a young age, and an enduring discipline has shaped her voice as much as her presence. “I can’t really put into words how singing makes me feel, and being able to do it professionally feels like a dream.” Her debut song, Chaap Tilak from Laikey Laikaa—Rasha’s upcoming film—carries a strong spiritual and empowering undercurrent. “For me, the song carries Veer Ras—a sense of empowerment, especially for women,” she explains. Faith is inseparable from that expression. “It also connects deeply to my faith. Shiva gives me strength, and that energy naturally comes through in how I interpret and perform the song. It’s very personal to me.” Spirituality is a lived practice for Rasha. “Whenever we’re shooting in a new location, my team and I visit all the local temples.” It’s a ritual that centres her. “It brings me peace and joy. It grounds me.”
As an artist, comfort is something she consciously avoids. “I’m drawn to roles that challenge me,” she says. Every project so far has been deliberately different from the last. “The moment I feel too comfortable, I feel like I’m not growing as an actor. I want to keep surprising myself—and hopefully the audience too.” That mindset traces back to the values she grew up with. “Humility and kindness,” she says without hesitation. A lesson from her nana remains central to how she moves through the world: “Life is like a ladder—be kind to everyone while climbing up, because those are the same people you’ll meet on the way down.” On set, hierarchy dissolves for her. “Everyone matters. Something as simple as saying thank you or good morning goes a long way,” she says. Perhaps that’s why she’s so instinctively people-oriented. “I’ve always loved being around people.” During breaks on set, she often grabs a mic and starts interviewing everyone—spot boys, ADs, technicians—purely for fun. “I love hearing people’s stories. It genuinely makes me happy.”
Her personal style mirrors her personality. “Comfy, youthful, and elegant,” she says. Certain silhouettes feel her. “Low-waisted jeans and a corset—definitely.” Fashion, for her, is also about intention. “I love Indian designers, especially local ones,” she adds. Travel often turns into discovery. “Whenever I am in a new city for a shoot, I love picking up pieces from local boutiques. Supporting them feels special.” Sentimentality, too, runs deep as she admits to holding on to meaningful pieces. “I still have my childhood teddy bears, clothes, even a T-shirt with a picture of baby me on it.” Among her most cherished possessions is a piece of cinematic memory. “The sunglasses from Akhiyon Se Goli Maare,” one of her mother’s most iconic songs, “They’re one of my most prized possessions.”
When Rasha imagines a meaningful life, success is only one part of it. “When I look back, I hope I can say I helped wildlife, protected strays, and contributed to the environment in some way.” And when asked what she’s looking forward to doing more of, her answer circles back to growth. “Pushing myself out of my comfort zone…every project should help me grow, even if it’s not about success.”
Photographs by Vaishnav Praveen of House of Pixels; Styling by Mohit Rai; Make-up: Nikita Thadani at Eficiente Artist Management; Hair: Ashis Bogi; Fashion Assistants: Chintan Shah and Ruchi Krishna; Bookings Editor: Varun Shah; Production: P Productions; Art Director: Reshma Rajiwdekar Rugs: Jaipur Rugs