Puitling thawnthu thar a inziakte hian khawtlang nun, inngaihzawnna, leh nupa nun puitling tak mai a lanchhuahtir thin. Hmanlai Nun leh Puitling Thawnthu

Mizo thawnthu phuahna group hrang hrangah a tharin a chhiar theih reng.

The youth tried apps and engines, but nothing worked. Finally, an old woman, Pi Ngursailovi, hobbled forward. She took a bamboo tube, whispered a forgotten dawi (chant) for calling back lost souls, and blew into the wind. The iron bird trembled. It remembered it was made from the earth of Mizoram. It returned the stone and fell silent forever.

Nunphung pangngai tak phena hmangaihna ril leh puitling nuna harsatna tawk te chanchin ziak lang zung zung thawnthu tharte hian chhiartu rilru a khawih hle thin.

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