There’s an old song that goes, “My bucket has a hole, dear Liza, dear Liza…” Most people hear it as a problem statement. I hear it as a life lesson wrapped in a nursery rhyme. After all there is so much that can still be done with a Leaky Bucket Wish List.
We treat our bucket list, or the wish list, or the list of things we would want to do or achieve in life. Unfortunately, for many, these are sacred steel buckets. Totally airtight, leak-proof, designed to last a lifetime. And they just keep adding to it, Alaska. bungee jumping. scuba diving, that startup idea, the unfinished novel, the unprepared marathon and for many, the impossible maya of perfect work-life balance. Then they wonder why the bucket feels so heavy that they can’t lift it without a groan. Why the bucket that should have been a pleasure to look at is so depressing, and why it suddenly cracks under pressure.
This is where I almost hear Rajesh Khanna’s voice floating in from somewhere: “Babu Moshai… zindagi badi honi chahiye, lambi nahi.” I’d add my own footnote—aur bucket halki honi chahiye, bhaari nahi.
A perfectly sealed bucket overflows. Overflow creates a mess, which shows up as tension, stress, urgency, and those faulty lines and reactions we regret five minutes later. “Arre yaar, itna pressure kyun le liya?” Because we do not allow leaks from our bucket.
The truth is, the bucket needs holes and was always designed to leak. It’s different that some people need holes of different sizes at different times.
A leaky wish list does three very useful things.
First, it prevents overflow. When a wish quietly leaks away, maybe because of health, wealth, time, family constraints, or plain loss of interest, it reduces the pressure. The bucket breathes. You breathe. Not every unfulfilled wish deserves a post-mortem or needs to be addressed as a midlife crisis.
Second, leaks stop one dying wish from spoiling the entire list. A dream that exists gracefully is far better than a zombie dream that refuses to leave and keeps haunting everything else. Some wishes simply expire. No drama. No violins. Jo gaya, so gaya.
Third, leaks force reflection. Every drip asks a question: should I plug this hole, or let it be? Sometimes you refine the wish in the bucket, redefine it, or reschedule it. Sometimes you accept that forcing it back will only overburden and crack the bucket. Wisdom lies in knowing the difference and in admitting that control is overrated. Or that you were meant to do all the things.
This is why I advise using a hard cap on the list and personally use one. No more than seven concurrent wishes in the bucket. Seven is still humane, a bit manageable to juggle. Beyond that, it’s a crowd, and a real wishy-washy list.
Prioritisation isn’t a productivity hack with the bucket list. It is an emotional hygiene. Everything can’t be urgent. Everything can’t matter equally. Dil bhi ek hi hai—cloud storage thodi hai.
The size and content of the bucket change with age and circumstances. Financial planning done well shrinks certain anxieties and expands certain dreams. Health decides whether wishes run or limp. Your company of friends, family and colleagues and their own lists, add constraints or facilitate balancing the bucket. Neglect these, and the wish list starts leaking uncontrollably. Manage them well, and even a modest bucket feels abundant.
Let me confess that I’ve made peace with some heroic leaks.
I gave up the Alaska iceberg trip and maybe the Aurora Borealis. And, I gave up bungee jumping, that too after twice standing on the platform and discovering that courage has a very flexible return policy. I gave up wanting to scuba dive. I do not view them as failures. No, I did not fail the list, nor did the list fail me; they simply aged out. I recently added visiting Badrinath, Shakti Peeths, and Jyotirlingas to my wish list. See, I did not say all the chaar dham or all the lings and Shakti Peeths, just as many as I can. Accepting and keeping flexibility is oddly liberating.
No guilt. No FOMO. Just calm acceptance. Sab kuch karna zaroori nahi hota.
There’s a spiritual idea that is often attributed to Osho. Life isn’t about accumulation but awareness. The moment you stop hoarding experiences like trophies, you start actually living the ones you choose. In that sense, a leaky bucket is deeply meditative. It refuses to let you cling.
So here’s the real practice: carry your leaky bucket consciously. DolLook at it once in a while. Reflect on what’s inside, what’s leaking, and why.
Don’t panic at every drip. Some leaks are mercy. Some are timing. Some are wisdom arriving late but welcome.
Because, as another filmi reminder goes, kal ho na ho. And if tomorrow is uncertain, today doesn’t deserve a bucket so heavy that you can’t walk.
The real aim, if you ask me, is to die empty. Not empty of love or meaning, but empty of unrealised wishes. Not carrying a bucket full of “kaash”, “agar”, ‘if”, “parantu”. “Kintu” and “lakin.” If some wishes leak along the way, good. They did their job. They kept life light.
After all, a bucket without holes doesn’t make life successful. It just makes it heavy. And as Babu Moshai would probably agree, “heavy zindagi ka koi maza nahi.”
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