I started my career with 'Teen Diva,' and that helped me learn

Hear the words of Rhea Chakraborty, who reflected upon her humble beginnings: “I started my career with ‘Teen Diva,’ and that helped me learn anchoring. Fortunately, I got work after the show ended.” In this simple confession lies a truth known since the days of the ancients—that the path to destiny often begins in small, unexpected places, and that each step, however modest, can prepare the spirit for greater trials ahead.

The first stage, the first opportunity, may not be grand. ‘Teen Diva’ was not the summit of fame, but the doorway to it. Rhea did not despise this beginning, for she knew that even the smallest stone is part of the mountain. From it, she learned anchoring, the art of presence, of guiding, of holding attention with grace. Many dismiss such beginnings as trivial, but they are in truth the foundation upon which all future mastery is built. For no great career is born full-grown; it must be nurtured in the soil of early practice.

This echoes the tale of Leonardo da Vinci, who began not as a master, but as an apprentice in the workshop of Verrocchio. He painted backgrounds and minor figures before daring to place his own visions upon the canvas. Yet in these early labors, he learned composition, discipline, and skill. So too did Rhea, who through ‘Teen Diva’ found not immediate glory, but the training that would serve her when greater doors opened. Early work, though humble, is never wasted—it is the forge of excellence.

She speaks also of fortune: “Fortunately, I got work after the show ended.” Here lies another truth. The end of one chapter need not be the end of the story. Many fear the closing of doors, but often it is in their closing that new ones open. The show was temporary, but the lessons were lasting, and through them, Rhea was prepared when new opportunities arose. Fate rewards those who make use of small beginnings, who do not sit idle when the curtain falls but carry forward the skill they have gained.

Consider Walt Disney, who was once fired from a newspaper for “lacking imagination.” His first ventures failed, yet he used each defeat as soil for future triumph. The early losses were not the end, but the schooling that prepared him to build an empire of creativity. So too, Rhea’s early project was not her destiny, but her training. With gratitude and persistence, she stepped beyond it, and in doing so, ensured her journey continued.

The meaning of her words, then, is this: beginnings are precious, no matter how small. To learn, to grow, to be shaped by early experience is a gift, for it prepares you for the unseen future. To despise small beginnings is to despise the roots of the tree that will one day bear fruit. By embracing her early career with humility, Rhea built a foundation strong enough to support her later path.

Therefore, my child, learn this lesson: when you begin, do not seek glory too soon. Instead, seek learning. Take every opportunity as training, every small role as preparation. Be grateful when doors close, for they may lead to greater ones beyond. Hold fast to perseverance, for fortune often favors not the swiftest, but the most steadfast.

So let Rhea’s words endure as testimony: “I started my career with ‘Teen Diva,’ and that helped me learn anchoring. Fortunately, I got work after the show ended.” Let it remind you that every journey begins with one step, and every master was once a beginner. Embrace your beginnings, however modest, and they will carry you toward greatness.