There is something about Janice Tessa that makes it difficult to place her neatly into one category, and perhaps that is exactly where the appeal lies. She is an actress who has modeled, a familiar face who found herself becoming unexpectedly recognisable through a single improvised scene, and a young woman navigating an industry where the line between professional life and public perception can disappear rather quickly. Over the years, audiences have watched her move from Habs to Kuch Ankahi and Hasrat, while her social media has offered an entirely different glimpse of the person behind those characters, one that is playful, fashion-conscious and considerably less interested in taking itself too seriously. Now, with Tark-e-Tamanna, she finds herself at another interesting point in that journey, more experienced, more selective and seemingly more aware of the kind of career and life she wants to build. What makes Tessa particularly engaging is that she does not always speak about herself with the polished certainty one might expect from someone who has spent years being interviewed and photographed. There is a self-awareness to her answers, but there is also a willingness to admit that she is still figuring things out. During an ARY Podcast appearance, she once laughed about not considering herself particularly Gen Z despite belonging to the generation that grew up alongside social media. It is a surprisingly revealing comment because Tessa’s career has, in many ways, been shaped by that digital world, yet she does not appear eager to let it become the definition of who she is.
That same balance can be seen on her Instagram, where glamour and playfulness sit comfortably alongside each other. There are fashion-forward looks, polished portraits and the inevitable behind-the-scenes glimpses of an actress at work, but there is also an unfiltered, mischievous quality that prevents the page from feeling like a carefully managed celebrity catalogue. Tessa seems equally comfortable experimenting with fashion, sharing lighter moments and allowing her personality to come through, which perhaps explains why her online presence feels less like a performance of perfection and more like an extension of the woman audiences occasionally get to see between scenes. Her journey on television has followed a similarly unpredictable path. Habs gave her one of those rare television moments that actors cannot manufacture even if they try. The much-discussed ketchup scene became memorable precisely because it did not feel overly choreographed, and Tessa later revealed that the moment was improvised. “It was all improvised,” she said, explaining the scene that would go on to become one of the most recognisable moments associated with her early career. There is something wonderfully appropriate about the fact that one of her most memorable performances came from simply responding naturally in the moment, because that instinctive quality has remained part of her screen presence as she has moved into more substantial roles. Kuch Ankahi gave her another opportunity to become part of an ensemble that audiences connected with, while Hasrat allowed her to explore a more complicated character through Fabiha, a woman determined to secure her own financial future and unwilling to simply accept the circumstances handed to her. It was a role that gave Tessa more emotional territory to explore, and it also connected with conversations she has had outside fiction about women’s independence, ambition and the expectations placed upon them. Her current drama, Tark-e-Tamanna, which premiered Sept. 28, takes her into yet another chapter as Roshanay, opposite Mirza Zain Baig, with the story exploring relationships, family expectations, education and the pressures surrounding personal choices.
The interesting part of Tessa’s career at this stage is that simply being offered a role no longer appears to be enough. As actors become more established, the question of what they choose becomes almost as important as what they are offered, and Tessa has spoken openly about the importance of the people she works with and the environment created on set. In one interview, she recalled an uncomfortable interaction with a director who dismissed one of her questions by telling her not to be “over,” an experience that ultimately led her to decide that she would not work with him again. It was an unusually direct admission in an industry where young actors can sometimes feel compelled to accept every opportunity, but it also offered a glimpse into the boundaries she has gradually learned to establish for herself.
The Spotlight Comes With Rules.
That sense of self-respect extends beyond individual projects and into the way Tessa views the entertainment industry itself. During a conversation about her experiences and boundaries, she offered a line that perhaps explains her relationship with showbiz better than any conventional career description could: “Main industry mein kaam karti hoon, but main industry ki hoon nahi.” There is an important distinction in that statement, because working in entertainment does not necessarily mean allowing entertainment to dictate every aspect of your identity, and Tessa seems increasingly conscious of keeping some separation between the person the public sees and the person who exists away from the cameras. It also helps explain why the old debate about modeling versus acting seems increasingly irrelevant to her. Modeling may have been part of her journey and remains an important element of her fashion identity, but acting offers her something that a photograph cannot. It gives her the opportunity to inhabit a character, understand a different personality and explore emotional situations that are far removed from her own life. At the same time, she clearly enjoys the visual side of the industry, and her social media continues to reflect an appreciation for fashion, styling and experimentation, allowing her to move between the glamour of a photoshoot and the lighter, more spontaneous personality audiences see in her reels. Film, naturally, enters that conversation as the next possibility, and Tessa has expressed an interest in making that transition. What is notable is that she does not appear to talk about cinema simply as a bigger platform or a more glamorous achievement, but rather as an opportunity to explore different characters and a different kind of storytelling. In a previous rapid-fire interview, she even named Bilal Abbas Khan as the actor she would cast opposite herself if she were putting together her own film, with veteran actor Shabbir Jan as her on-screen father. It was a playful answer, but it also revealed that she has thought about the kind of performers and dynamics she would like to explore on a larger screen. Away from acting, Tessa’s conversations about relationships and personal life have perhaps revealed even more about her than her career interviews. In a FUCHSIA conversation, she spoke about the pressure women face to prioritise marriage while being given considerably less encouragement to build careers, financial independence and ambitions of their own. Her famous response, “Marriage is very scary!”, initially sounds like the sort of humorous comment that could easily become a headline, but the reasoning behind it was much more thoughtful, touching on trust, vulnerability and the fear of discovering that someone may not remain beside you when life becomes difficult.
There is something particularly relatable about that honesty because celebrity culture often creates the impression that everyone else has life neatly organised, with the right relationship, the right career and the right answer ready at every turn. Tessa’s interviews suggest something considerably more human. She is ambitious, but she is also cautious. She enjoys being seen, but she does not appear to want every part of herself exposed. She wants a successful career, but she has also spoken about wanting enough financial stability to eventually slow down, spend time with her parents and make sure they are secure. Those are not particularly glamorous ambitions in the conventional celebrity sense, but they are perhaps more meaningful because of that. The same grounded quality comes through when she talks about criticism. Tessa has experienced the less pleasant side of visibility, including conversations around colourism and comments about her complexion, as well as the inevitable scrutiny of her appearance that accompanies being a young actress in the public eye. Rather than dismissing every criticism, she has drawn a line between comments about her professional work and comments that become personal, saying, “You have every right to criticise, I will try and improve myself.” It is a remarkably measured response in an environment where social media can encourage celebrities to react to every criticism in real time, and it suggests that she has learned that not every opinion needs to become a battle. Perhaps that is what has changed most noticeably as Tessa has grown into her career. The early excitement of being noticed has gradually given way to a more thoughtful understanding of what it means to remain visible. There will always be another drama, another photoshoot, another viral clip and another opinion waiting online, but there is a difference between chasing every opportunity and choosing the opportunities that actually mean something. With Tark-e-Tamanna now adding another character to her growing body of work, and the possibility of film still somewhere on the horizon, Tessa appears to be entering the stage of her career where the choices themselves become part of the story.
