A small gap in the broken floor tile

It was a lazy afternoon. I sat in my veranda comfortably settled, lost in a book after a perfect summer meal and a couple of mangoes. The little one seemed to be busy playing with her toys in front of me. 

After a while, I noticed her running into the kitchen. Too lazy to get up, I asked her what she wanted and went back to reading my book, forgetting about it. Few minutes later, I sensed her excitedly coming back to her toys. 

I lowered my book, smiled satisfactorily and continued reading. A little later, I sensed her again making rounds to the kitchen. I wondered what she was doing. Taken a little by curiosity, but still too tired to get up, I just sat there, now observing what she was doing. 

She appeared from the kitchen with a cup full of water and sat on the floor. There was a gap, a hole, a small space in one of the floor tiles. She poured the water into the gap carefully. After it had levelled with the floor, she picked up her toys and went along playing in the garden. 

The next afternoon, the routine repeated. This time, I watched as she came, gave a dismissive look to the small gap which was now back to being empty, she looked around as if wondering where the water had gone. And then, ran into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she reappeared from the kitchen with a handful of flour. Spreading the flour excitedly near her toys, she knelt down on the floor, added a few drops of water and moulded it into soft dough. She then took small pieces of the dough filling the small gap on the broken tile with it. After levelling it again, she went back to playing with her toys while I went back to reading. 

The third afternoon, I sat there reading while she enthusiastically came to check the broken tile. This time, I sensed her frustration. She sighed heavily looking at how the white levelled dough in the gap had turned black with dirt and filth. There were ants and insects sniffing it. 

She strayed into the garden and came back with her hands full of messy wet mud. She scratched off the dirty dough from the gap and replaced it with the wet mud. Levelling it to the floor, she got up and  resumed her playtime with the toys. 

The fourth day, I waited. I waited for the afternoon, wondering what she'd do now. I settled myself in the same sofa, lazily skimming through the book, trying to keep my eyes open. And then, she came. This time, to her dismay, the gap was half empty. Somebody's rubbing of the shoes on the tile had caused the mud to come off before even being properly settled. 

She looked around wondering what to use next to fill the gap. After a few minutes, she returned from the garden with her tiny hands full of small pebbles, rocks and stones. Patiently, throughout the afternoon, she tried fitting each stone, each pebble into the gap. She didn't give up. She tried and tried and tried. Each time, with great hope, picking up the stone and trying to fit it in. Failing, she'd keep it down smilingly while moving on to the next pebble and repeating. 

Finally, she collected all her stones/pebbles, wrapped up her toys and started to walk away. 

Confused and feeling disappointed for her, I called her. "Would you like to share what's happening here? What have you been trying to do?". 

"I was trying to fill this gap here on the broken floor tile. But nothing seems to be fitting! Just now I realized how stupid of me to even trying!" She replied. 

"Why stupid? You've been trying to fix it, isn't that good?" I inquired reassuringly. 

"Because its already filled! I was trying to fill a gap not knowing that its already filled!" She responded. 

"Filled? Filled with what?" I was confused. 

"I don't know. Maybe with something I can't see. But I can feel it. Its so filled that the gap is just unable to accept anything else. It is not letting mud or water or flour or pebbles to level it. It seems its already happy as it is! So it must be filled already with something right!"

And that's when I realized. Perhaps, the devoid does not need to be filled. It needs to be felt with the sense of nothing that already fills it. The devoid is perfect as it is. It needs no fixing. If there is anything that can make it feel complete, it is the acknowledgement of the emptiness. Only then, can you and I feel the power of what fills it.