When God rewrites the script

 When God Rewrites the Script

by Nidhi Guglani 

“Sometimes when things are falling apart, they may actually be falling into place.”

— Unknown

Life is unpredictable—that’s a cliché, I know. But the thing about clichés is that they often come from deep truths we’ve all lived, one way or another. I certainly have.

I started my journey dreaming of becoming a doctor. That dream didn’t materialize. Instead, I became a teacher—a role I came to love deeply over nearly two decades. Still, behind the steady rhythm of lessons and schedules, something stirred quietly inside me. A soft voice, an inner tug—hinting at something more.

That voice grew clearer when I didn’t clear the PGT (Post Graduate Teacher) interview. At the time, it felt like a setback. But now, I see it as a doorway. It was God’s way of nudging me onto a different path—one I had not imagined, but one that had been waiting for me all along.

Soon after, I joined the Nature’s Appreciation Club at school. Around the same time, a circular titled Sunflower Seeds arrived. Perhaps our Vice Principal assumed it was related to the Nature Club. Coincidentally, I—a language teacher—was a part of it, alongside a close friend who headed it. That circular turned out to be something else entirely: an opportunity from an organization that promoted emerging writers.

My friend handed it to me and asked if I’d like to invite an author for a book discussion. I said yes without a second thought.

You see, years ago, I had attended a literary festival at the India Habitat Centre. That visit left a mark on me. I had always been curious about the creative minds behind books. I dreamt of being part of a space where writers and readers could engage in meaningful, soul-deep conversations.

This was my chance. And I took it.

That’s how the Reading Club was born.

Our first event featured author Tarun Maharishi and his book The Portrait of a Secret. I was filled with excitement. My students read the book, prepared questions, and brought their curiosity to the discussion. The energy was electric. That event remains one of our most special moments.

With support from school leadership, the Reading Club became official. Coincidentally, the same students who once joined me at that long-ago literary festival became an integral part of the journey. One of them, Sadhya, even became the Club President. We held quizzes, hosted more authors—Harinder Sikka, Sameer Soni, and many others. The dream had taken form.

Then came another turning point.

The Vice Principal called me to his room and gave me a beautiful souvenir with the words Book Lover etched on it. It felt personal, almost like a mirror held up to my heart. He asked me to fill a form about our activities, which I did casually.

Later, I received news that the school had won the Progressive School Award, and I had individually received the Reading Torch Award. Both were awarded on 5th September 2024, a date I now hold dear.

But even that moment had its share of chaos.

At the award ceremony, there was confusion. The organizers had clubbed the awards and planned to announce only one. I had two separate letters from them—one for the school and one for me. I approached them, showed the official mail, and they acknowledged the error. Eventually, I was honoured.

Behind these milestones was a simple truth: while many things may have looked effortless, they weren’t. They took persistence, clarity, and action. I didn’t leave any stone unturned. I worked hard, poured myself into each opportunity, and stayed committed. And yet, I know that these blessings were never just mine to script.

God had a plan. A plan much bigger and far more meaningful than the one I had imagined for myself.

Sometimes we believe our plans are the best for us. We make goals, create timelines, try to control the journey. But with time—and often through pain or delay—we realize that God’s plan has a higher purpose. He sees the full picture when we only see a corner. His detours are divine directions. What we think is rejection may be protection. What feels like the end could actually be a beginning.

And so, I trust the unknown.

I don’t know what lies ahead—maybe I’ll open a bookstore, or lead more literary conversations, or help turn books into films. I still dream, and I still listen to that quiet inner voice.

But now I walk with more faith, more gratitude, and more wonder.

Because when God rewrites the script, the story is always better than the one we had in mind.