From her very first Telugu film Gentleman, Nivetha Thomas has quietly redefined what it means to be a heroine in Telugu cinema. Her characters aren’t loud or flashy; they’re grounded, honest, and full of heart. Rather than chasing glamour, Nivetha gravitates towards roles with depth, like Saraswati in 35 Chinna Katha Kaadu, a character that earned her the prestigious Gaddar Telangana Film Awards. In an exclusive chat with CE, Nivetha reflects on that recognition, her journey so far, and the kind of stories she hopes to keep telling.
Excerpts
How did you feel when you first heard the news?
I was woken up by a call from Nandu (Nanda Kishore, the director) that day. I thought it would be a casual chat about his script, but he started with, ‘Congratulations’. I asked, ‘For what?’ And when he told me, I was thrilled. But the real joy came later, once it had time to sink in. In that moment, I wasn’t just happy for myself, I felt happy for Nandu and for Saraswati.
What does this recognition mean to you, personally and professionally?
Personally, I feel incredibly blessed and grateful. The timing made it even more special; it came when I really needed it. It gave me a quiet boost, a sense of reassurance after years of putting my head down and doing the work. Professionally, it feels like a win not just for me, but for what Saraswati represents. When people hear about the award and watch 35, they’ll meet her and she’ll be the one who stays with them. That’s a bigger victory. Saraswati is one of the most beautifully written characters I’ve had the chance to portray, and this award feels like a celebration of her, too.
You’ve always picked roles with substance. What drew you to 35 specifically?
I think I just naturally lean towards roles with emotional depth. People say I’m picky with scripts, but to me, it’s not about being difficult. It’s about being honest. I look for characters that feel real, that say something meaningful. Yes, it’s a painful process at times. Waiting for the right role takes patience. But Saraswati was worth it. When Nandu narrated 35, I thought, ‘Really? You’re offering this to me?’ I didn’t say it out loud, but I was surprised. By the end of the narration, I was in. I mentally locked it in. This was it. And I knew it would be a disservice to myself and to my craft if I said no just because Saraswati is a mother of two. That kind of mindset goes against everything I believe in. If I want real, grounded women to be written into stories, I have to show up for them. That’s the only way.
Looking back at your journey, what shaped you most?
A lot of learning came from simply being on sets while also being in school or college. Juggling both gave me a unique lens. I interacted with people of all ages and learned just by observing how they moved through the world. I’ve been lucky. God placed me around the right people. I remember working on Arase as a child, with Samuthirakani uncle directing. He noticed everything; even if I had an exam the next day, he’d sense it and let me leave early. He once told me, ‘When you do a film, I’ll direct it’. And later, Poraali happened.
In Malayalam, Veruthe Oru Bharya came after someone saw me in a serial. Akku Akbar uncle gave me a full narration even though I was in 7th standard. I asked so many questions, not because I was chasing ‘character arcs’, but just out of curiosity. That’s how I’ve always worked. Like a student. And when Gentleman came along, pitched by Mohana Krishna Indraganti sir, it felt…meant to be. The real turning points? Meeting the right mentors. Being offered the right scripts at the right time. Films like Papanasam and Gentleman rewired something in me; they showed me what’s possible.
You’ve maintained a grounded presence in an industry that’s often loud. How do you manage that?
It comes from how I started, balancing school and cinema. One day I’d be in a vanity van, the next in a classroom. Acting never felt like a ‘career’ back then, it was just something I loved doing. At school, no one treated me differently. I had to study, respect teachers, pass exams. Even now, that mindset hasn’t changed. My personal life is private, and I prefer it that way. I draw clear lines. When I’m on set, I give it everything. And when I come home, I disconnect. Even my industry friends and I talk more about life than cinema. That helps keep me grounded.
If Saraswati could speak to your younger self, what would she say?
She’d probably speak the way she spoke to Arun in the film. There’s a moment where he says, ‘Mum, I think we failed’. And she replies, ‘It’s okay. But we tried’. That line... it’s not just motivational. It’s brave. In that moment, Saraswati doesn’t know what’s next. But she still offers grace. If she could speak to me now, even more than to my younger self, I’d want to hear that. ‘You’re trying. It’s okay. You tried’. Especially on the days when the doubts are louder than usual. Sometimes, you just need someone to say: ‘What you did matters. What you know is enough. Keep going. You’re doing good’.
Does the Gaddar Award change how you approach your work?
The pressure has always been there because I place it on myself. I want to do roles that matter, roles that move the story forward. The award does add visibility, sure. But more than anything, it feels like validation. It came at a time when it really mattered to me. I take it as a sign to trust myself more. To keep doing the work, with even more conviction.
Your biggest personal takeaway from the Gaddar Award?
That I got to win it for Saraswati. That makes me so happy. Because I hope this nudges people, especially young filmmakers and writers to craft more characters like her. Small, meaningful worlds. Strong, grounded women. Real stories. If this recognition inspires even one person to write a script with heart, I’ll feel fulfilled. Because I’ll always root for women like Saraswati to have more space on screen. We need more of them.