The Playful Art of Names“Aho! Te... My Hubby!”-Dr. Pravin Dumbre
- Team Stay Featured
- Jul 8
- 4 min read
The journey from Aho to My Hubby is quite a tale, isn’t it? In rural India, calling your husband by his name was practically unheard of. It was a cherished tradition, passed down like a family heirloom. Those were the golden days of joint families, homes abuzz with people. If you had to pass a message to him—the man of the house—it went through the kids or the womenfolk. “Tell him this,” you’d whisper. His reply would come back the same way: “Tell her that.” Done! The poor little messengers would be exhausted from all the back-and-forth. Eventually, when they got fed up, the newlyweds would sneak shy glances at each other.
This quiet, roundabout chatter became entertainment for everyone else. They’d join the fun, especially when the couple pretended to be cross with each other. These playful exchanges rarely reached the elders, who were often away during the day, giving the couple some rare moments to themselves. That’s how respect for elders was beautifully woven into daily life.
During Satyanarayan Pujas, Gondhals, Jagrans, or when visiting or hosting guests—no matter their age—couples were expected to say each other’s names after the rituals. No name, no moving forward! The bride always went first, and the pressure was real. Even the elders would sometimes forget the groom’s name and nudge her: “Come on, girl, say it!”
But just saying the name wasn’t enough. It had to be in an ukhaana—a poetic rhyme filled with rhythm, wit, and charm, with the husband’s name slipped in gracefully. A plain name wouldn’t do; it needed to be dressed in verse, delivered with affection and a dash of mischief.
An ukhaana was a lyrical performance—full of metaphors and melody. The bride had to say it loud and proud, with her husband’s name right in the middle. Some cheeky guests would tease, “We didn’t hear it! Say it again!” just to fluster the blushing bride and enjoy the moment. That’s how enchanting a name could be. Here’s a classic example:
चांदीच्या वाटीत पेढे भरून घेते,
....रावांचे नाव घेते, सुखाने संसार करते.
“In a silver bowl, I pile sweet pedhas high,
I say [Rav’s] name, and with joy, build our life by and by.”
Silver bowls, plates, jugs, or pots were often the shining stars of these rhymes. As for the groom—he had it easier. He could say his wife’s name straight. But if nudged, he’d choose something simple, like:
भाजीत भाजी मेथीची... माझ्या प्रितीची.
“Of all the greens, methi’s what I adore,
My darling [wife’s name], I love you more.”
Those who couldn’t remember their ukhaana would practice it for a month before the wedding or cram it like a last-minute exam. Still nervous? The kalwara or kalwarya—the couple’s support squad—would whisper the name just in time. Of course, someone always overheard, causing giggles all around. At weddings, older women would push their nath aside, take the mic, and belt out ukhaanas, stealing the show.
Back then, name-calling was mostly for public rituals. At home, it remained hushed. Whispers in the kitchen or soft laughter in the living room carried affection. Eventually, affectionate titles like karbhari (master), karbharin (mistress), yajman (head of the house), aamche he (our guy), or aamche hi (our gal) became more common. Later, it evolved into Patil, Ravsahab, Sarpanch, Guruji, or Sir. Working men became Sahab, shopkeepers became Sheth, and these labels stuck—at home and in society.
Of course, with the ups and downs of marriage, neighbors sometimes overheard not-so-sweet name-calling too.
Now, with video recordings and social media, this tradition has gone full Bollywood! One ukhaana has practically become a viral chant:
निळ्या निळ्या आकाशात चमचमणारे तारे,
नाव घेते... नाव घेते... लक्ष द्या सारे.
नाव घ्या, नाव घ्या, नाव काय घ्यायचं.
नवरोबाला शेवटी, आहोच म्हणायचं.
साध्या वरण-भातावर साजूक तूप घालायचं.
.... रावांच्या आईंना आता सासूबाईच म्हणायचं
छोटी छोटी म्हणत घरभर फिरणारी त्यांची बहीण आता नणंदबाई चा तोरा गाजवणार.
.... रावांच्या लेकराचा सांभाळ करण्याचा मी प्रयत्न करणार.
नाव घ्या, नाव घ्या, नाव काय घ्यायचं.
नवरोबाला शेवटी, आहोच म्हणायचं.
साध्या वरण-भातावर साजूक तूप घालायचं.
.... रावांच नाव घेत....च्या घरात एंटर व्हायचं.
“In the twinkling blue sky, stars shine so bright,
I say [Rav’s] name—listen close, hold tight!
Say the name, say the name—what’s it gonna be?
In the end, he’s just Aho to me.
On humble varan-bhaat, I pour a dollop of ghee,
Calling [Rav’s] name, I’ll now be his Sasubai.
His little sister, once running all around,
Now rules as Nanandbai, proud and renowned.
I’ll care for [Rav’s] little ones with heart and grace,
Say the name—let this love fill the space.
On simple varan-bhaat, I pour a spoonful of ghee,
Saying [Rav’s] name, I enter his family.”
These days, wives will call out, “Aho! Did you hear? Grab this from the market!” It’s classic. Men often say, “When there’s work to be done, they call so sweetly.” Later, you might hear them complain, “My guy’s clueless about shopping—anyone could fool him!”
As gender equality blossomed, calling each other by name became natural. First names, nicknames, even terms like Aai, Baba, Mummy, or Daddy—originally for kids—became how couples addressed each other around their children. And when love hits its peak? “Husband” evolves into “My Hubby.”
Shakespeare asked, “What’s in a name?” But when names become part of a lifelong bond, they’re worn with pride. Women are encouraged to recite ukhaanas, and men are nudged too—some shyly, others with flair. Some even become ukhaana stars, thriving in the spotlight! This delightful tradition, especially at weddings, sparks affection and warmth between couples.
And I can’t help but feel—when such traditions fade, perhaps a little spark of love fades too.
What’s your take on it?
Author:
Dr. Pravin Dumbre, Otur (Pune)
9766550643
Translated by:
Dr (HC) Prachetan Potadar
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