#Hindi meaning

[hindwidictionary]

Exploring the Depth of Hindi Language: The Significance of a HindwiDictionary

The Hindi language, with its roots in ancient Sanskrit, is a tapestry of history, culture, and tradition. Its vocabulary is a reflection of India's diverse landscapes, religions, and influences. To truly appreciate and understand Hindi, one must delve into the vast ocean of words and meanings that make up its lexicon. This is where a Hindi dictionary, or "Hindi Shabadkosh," plays a vital role.A Hindwidictionary serves as a linguistic guide, offering meanings, translations, and insights into the rich tapestry of Hindi words. It is a compendium of knowledge, capturing the essence of Hindi expressions, idioms, and phrases. Whether you are a student, a language enthusiast, or someone looking to communicate effectively in Hindi, a Hindi dictionary is an indispensable tool.

Within the pages of a Hindi dictionary, you embark on a journey through the intricate web of nouns (Sangya), verbs (Kriya), adjectives (Visheshan), adverbs (Kriya Visheshan), pronouns (Sarvnam), prepositions (Sambandhbodhak), conjunctions (Samanarthak), and interjections (Avyay). Each word, carefully defined and explained, reveals its unique significance and contributes to the kaleidoscope of Hindi language.The Hindi Shabadkosh not only assists in deciphering Hindi words, but it also provides translations from English to Hindi and vice versa. It serves as a bridge between two languages, helping learners and language enthusiasts to communicate effectively and accurately. Moreover, it uncovers the idiomatic expressions, proverbs, and commonly used phrases in Hindi, offering deeper insights into the language's cultural nuances.

Beyond its practical use, a Hindi dictionary is a gateway to exploring the language's vibrant literary and artistic heritage. It unravels the hidden meanings in Hindi literature, poetry, and songs, allowing readers to appreciate the nuances and imagery crafted by Hindi words. Furthermore, it acts as a window into the world of Bollywood, where Hindi cinema weaves magic through its dialogues and lyrics.

In conclusion, a Hindi dictionary is a treasure trove that unlocks the beauty and intricacies of the Hindi language. It goes beyond mere translations, enabling learners and enthusiasts to immerse themselves in the cultural nuances and profound expressions that Hindi has to offer. So, embark on this linguistic adventure, discover the power of words, and let the Hindi Shabadkosh be your trusted companion in unraveling the depths of Hindi language.

[youaremysunshine-court]

Hi we did it

[zarnzarn]

lamb who kills the one who waits when the time comes to decide, furious and betrayed at being asked to lay down their life after everything they'd done, after-

they kill him, and don't stop to see what happens to the body, carried away by their celebrating followers. They rejoice the whole day, of a final victory against evil, riling each other up to the heights of joy and mania until late in the night.

And then Lamb goes to bed and blows out the lamp and the their decision finally sinks in.

what have they done.

they wake the next day trembling from forgotten nightmares, overheating as they make their way through the day's chores, blank-faced and numb. the call to sermon is waved off in face of a headache, as they try not to think about how much of what they preach no longer is relevant.

the week passes in a haze- they unthinkingly leave offerings in the wooden chest until they rot in the summer noon; call out the rituals in Narinder's language and pretend the power isn't fainter than usual, go on a crusade to get their mind off things- except the last is the worst of it all, because the crown's eye is pale pink, pupil fat with power, instead of the crimson cat-eye that Lamb is used to, and there's no getting away from the fact on how silent it is when no one is watching behind it.

how silent it is because no one is there.

yet somehow worse still is-

"hope you feel better soon, leader!" a younger follower says, tucking a camelia into their wool. they know they've been distant lately, avoiding worries left right and centre. "praise the one! he'll make everything alright."

it's like a hammer to the chest, leaving them breathless and stunned, to realise- they never commissioned a statue of Narinder, after all these years. so stubborn in only leaving the crimson eye scratched around the cult grounds as his symbol until he found an artist worthy of Lamb sharing the image of the god of death, that-

no one else except the lamb knew what narinder looked like. they had no idea whose defeat they'd celebrated.

no one but Lamb remembers their god.

..

it gets harder after that.

Lamb isn't sure how many people have left the cult by the time the Mystic Seller's demand comes through, to save what's left of the Bishops from endless purgatory, before their violent shadows disrupted the fabric of the four realms.

They stare, speechless and disbelieving, at the outrageous ask, before it suddenly sinks in that-

The bishops.

The bishops.

They run through the lands once more with eagerness, sword slashing harder each time, ruthless and relentless in their kills. They reconquer Leshy and Heket brutally, curtly setting out the terms when they are diminished back to mortal and forced to stay in the cult. They agree, and agree to keeping their peace as well when Kallamar and Shamura join them, surrounded by a cult that's flourishing once more, waiting eagerly for a familiar stranger. Lamb tells stories around the fire about The One Who Waits, watches the smiles on their followers' faces reappear, the ones who had fled their anger and depression slowly making their way back to the flock, and the cult grows back to its full potential once more.

And then Lamb runs up the stairs when it's all ready and beautiful and welcoming, beams at the Seller as they wait for their instructions.

The Seller frowns. "Yes?"

Lamb tilts their head, rusted bell on their neck tinkling. It had broken the day after Narinder's defeat, the collar finally fluttering to the ground in tatters like a cloth of eighty years should; but Lamb had repaired and maintained and polished it until it wrapped proud around their neck once again. Their heart is beating in their chest, excitement running through their veins. They'd forgotten how it felt to be on the cusp of going to meet the One Who Waits.

"The last bishop still remains," They laugh, joy spreading through them. "I have to go get him too, yes? For the good of the universe and all."

The Mystic Seller... is silent.

"Narinder was not a Bishop," It says finally. Lamb's smile drops. "The Three-Eyed Cat had completed his ascension when he mastered the resurrection ritual. He was a God."

Lamb's heart drops to their stomach, stumbling like they've taken a hit. "What? So what? Can't I bring him back?"

The Mystic Seller tilts their head. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Lamb's nostrils flare, red crown sparking as they take a step closer. "I brought all those others back, why can't I-"

"They were the pillars of the very order of the world-"

"They were fucking MONSTERS!" Lamb shouts. "And what, death isn't?"

"It is," The Seller says, unaffected by the screaming. "But you are the Bishop of Death now. The cycle has begun again."

Lamb feels like they've taken an arrow to the chest. They stumble forward, and then to their knees. "No," they whimper. "There has- has to be some way to bring him back."

The Mystic Seller stares at them. "You were the one to kill him," They point out, and Lamb feels bile rise in their mouth as their breathing gets faster. "Why would you want him back? A thriving cult, an usurped crown, his spells in your hand-"

"Shut up," Lamb hisses.

"-you have all the power you could ever want, little sheep. Your revenge against the murder of your people."

"He wasn't the one to do it!" They shout up at the Seller, despite the hypocrisy- it had been part of their thoughts when they'd raised the axe again and again and again; the resentment of if it wasn't for you-

"No, no, no, no, no," They whimper, holding onto their biceps and shaking. "Narinder."

It is the first time they have said his name in five years. That realization is what makes the tears finally fall.

Their throat is hoarse when they finish, eyes swollen and blood pooled around them, skin already healing back to perfection where they had clawed through. The Mystic Seller stares at them and sways, silent.

"No," The Lamb finally says, and gets up, determined. Walks past the Seller, to the door behind, leading to the Gateway.

They wonder how they never realized. Or maybe they did, and were just lying to themselves that they didn't.

Lamb reaches the crater, with the rusted chains and wooden crucifixes rising out from the fog around it and comes to a halt.

Narinder is exactly where they left him.

Bones only now. Blackened by all the rituals he performed, he'd told them once; perfectly placed, like he had just fallen.

Lamb still has the ointment they made with their first cult sitting in the back of their cupboard, back when they were naive enough to think it would only take months. Ointment spelled to help grow back the fur on his rotting arms, worn to nothing by a thousand years of pulling at the chains and them tightening on him every time he moved in response.

The skull could be anyone's, now.

Two ribs are broken, where Lamb's axe went through. Straight to the heart.

Lamb exhales and shakily kneels to the ground, lowering himself to Narinder's side, careful to not dislodge a single bone out of place, and molds their body around the skeleton in a perverse mockery of a lover's embrace. Violently, abruptly, they want that, so much it burns- Narinder's arms holding the close one last time. It feels unbearable, to have- to have him lowered to meet Lamb at his level, to have him attainable instead of a towering, unreachable, terrible eldritch horror, and for him to be dead.

Oh, Lamb thinks, shaking as tears form in their eyes. Oh, I loved you. I love you.

"Darling," They choke out, tracing one cheekbone. "My baby. My one. My death. Come back, will you?"

Narinder opens his eyes and shoots them an unimpressed look. Lamb sobs, shoulders heaving, gasping as claws embed themselves in their throat- whole, complete, strong, paw soft as a cloud, faint markings on the fur Lamb never knew he had now drenched with blood.

They laugh, smiling through the tears as they push forward into the claws, flesh ripping and tearing as they push their mouth closer to Narinder's.

"I am sorry," They whisper. Narinder growls. "i love you."

"Traitor-"

"Fuck the crown," Lamb breathes back, moving to straddle Narinder to interrupt him, keeping the weight on their own knees to not damage his healing ribs. His claws are still in their throat, tangled in their stitches. "Fuck the power. Fuck the cult. Fuck religion. I only ever wanted you."

Narinder stills, looking up at them with sharp eyes. Lamb laughs around his beloved's fingers. "I only ever want you. What is life without you, Antim?"

Narinder studies them. Lamb waits, bloodied and grinning, patiently waiting, smitten to have those beautiful trifecta eyes upon them once more.

"I promised you," They whisper. "I promised to break you out of here. Let me, my one. My only one, who has waited so long."

Narinder takes a breath, tilting his chin down and then up. His claws twitch in Lamb's vocal chords, drawing them down closer to him.

Lamb whoops in joy and reaches up to toss the crown to the side, fitting their hooves to the last chain wrapped around Narinder's neck, binding him still to the Gateway, and splinters it into a thousand pieces, never to hold anyone ever again.

"Come," The Lamb whispers finally, moving back and gathering their lover up in their arms, still pressing their mouths together. "Let me take you home, Narinder. Mere jaan. Meri mrityu. My one."

Narinder sighs and buries his face in the crook of Lamb's neck as they start to walk away. "Turn back around, idiot. We cannot leave without the damned crown. And I am picking out the wedding decorations."

"Of course, my love," Lamb coos, and leans in again to kiss their greatest mistake.

[lyknest]

watching this performance isn't enough i fear

[loverboyfang]

“shonamoni. stay here with me for a while,” / “there’s no where i’d rather be.,”

☼ fang4fang (alucard x fang), castlevania ☼

☼ " lahu munh lag gaya " ☼

art by giovanni gasparro

[mischeva]

Thought I’d draw my fav Archie wifeys

From left to right is Bunnie D’Coolette, Hershey St. John and Megan Acorn!

I’ve been meaning to finish my redesign of these girlies for a long ass time. Not enough love for Hershey and especially Megan in the Archie community and I think that’s a huge miss. Love these three sm !!!

[whatudottu]

Something something Decepticon recruitment (+physical exam) yada yada putting my Malay twins headcanon to good use and making names (and a non-typical matrilineal last name as opposed to a patrilineal last name) for them :P

Old fanfiction as well as echo chambering myself I have got some headcanons in my mind that do not make surface level sense but have Syakir and Darwesh bin Kalsom!

[aryomengrande]

izatina ⋆˙⟡♡ / tokrev collab w @half-baked-biscuit

→

[hadleysmis]

In 2015, an Urdu translation was written of Les Misérables, spanning the story into almost a 1900 paged book, but this was not the first time the novel was translated into Urdu.

The first Urdu-translated edition was published by Dar-ul-Isha’at Punjab in 1927 under the title 'Budnaseeb'. It was very, very abridged, with the pages being as short as ≈250, divided into 51 chapters.

Thanks to the work by Baqar Naqvi, a famous Urdu poet, having written a translation published by Karachi’s Academy under the title of 'Mizraab', Urdu readers could now read 1826 pages. Now they could feel the pain of French readers had to deal with reading the book. English didn't reach that high.

This was highly regarded by Urdu writers and critics, and thought of this as a big step for the direction of Urdu translations in literature.

If you want to read more about this in an article, press the keep reading button below.

Fun stuff!

[hussyknee]

It's 2024 and I'm still not over the fact that the entirety of Chammak Chalo was sung by fucking AKON without a hint of an accent.

[thehillywoodshow]

📣CALLING ALL HILLYWOOD FANS: Help us create TWO NEW Galactic & Juicy PARODIES! ⭐️🪲🎬 We can’t do this without the support from fans, like you! 🫂 Help us make these Parodies a reality!

❤️ Donate or become a Patron at: TheHillywoodShow.com/donate

10% of all proceeds is donated to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.

[ventivente]

Special civil servant manhwa is so good and the fact it uses Hindi words makes it even better

[incorrect-maraudersaandco-quotes]

Dorcas: How do I look?

Marlene: Tu eres magnífica.

Dorcas:

James: Mals, that spanish

Marlene, blushing: Du bist großartig

Peter: German, not even close.

Marlene: Fuck off!

James: and we are back to english!

Dorcas: Wait, how many languages you know?

Marlene: four, english, german, spanish and tagalog.

Dorcas: oh [starts mentally preparing the wedding venue]

[laughableillusions]

Veer realizing he’s in love with Zaara: wow she’s so beautiful when she smiles, she’s so lovely, she’s such a beautiful dancer I want to share my life with her and make her happy forever

Zaara realizing she’s in love with Veer: I want this man to fuck me.

[someoneintheshadow456]

The 3DS modding scene made me discover a lot of titles which I would have never gotten my hands on or heard of otherwise - such as Stella Glow which I literally only started playing a week ago out of boredom because XC2's NG+ without Jinmalos is like watching paint dry.

It's definitely something my high school self would have loved ("conducting" and "tuning" being extremely WTF aside). For adult me it's pretty and fun for the moment.

Although my Desi ass has permanently associated it with Taal se Taal and now I can't unsee it as the song they're going to sing for the anthem program.