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We went 216 KM north from Agartala,the capital city of state Tripura, and arrived at a hill station called Jumpui Hills. The settlers are mostly Mizo, sine-tibeto tribe of mongalian race. Houses and huts were built on the slope of the hills, however the structure of the houses are different from any others parts of India. The house or the hut is called 'Garing', and it is hoisted at least two meters from the ground with fine pillars to supports the beam and the walls are fitted with bamboos and painted with the owners' responsibilities. The place is a heaven on earth, clouds are felt by our skin and the scenic beauty by our eyes. Oh! How delighted we were, that day, I can remember my old father sang a song, by- heart ,a common folk song. We claps with delight and the settlers took us for a lunch in a house of the local pastor, Nilmoni Darling. We chatted and discussed the place and the system of local governance. One simple things that they has to offer is betel nuts and leaves after the lunch. We munch it with abit of lime and Zarda. Oh! How nice it was, the people's hospitality. And they took us to the top most part of the place, called 'betleng shib'. Oh! How beauty it is, from there we all could see the houses of the village. 'I love this place', my father said. The only words, that I heards since the time I remembers. 'Oh, he is delighted.' We looked in all directions, all are green and beauty. 'Oh! How great thou art, how great thou art', the Pastor said and prayed placing his palm on me. I close my eyes as he started praying. 'Amen!' I open my eyes and I felt light, my mind felt relax and clearly I could see the hills, majestic and truly praise worthy. We napped on the tree-house and had a mild snacks in the after-noon, oh, the birds chirping and breeze pleasantly passing by our ears. I could listen to the breeze, it felt to me, it said, 'Be still and know that I am God. ' "Popo!" We heard the horn of the car. "It must be our car", Said my father. " Yes, indeed." We climbed down from the tree-house, and I heard my father sang a song. "Oh! How delighted he is." The driver honking the car again. And we hurried got down and wear our chapals. The villagers are bringing us many gifts from the hills. Our car was packed and I had to keep some things on my lap. My father and mother too. As we leave the place at 4:15PM, we can see some villagers smiles waving hands to say bye. Oh! It is indeed a place of visits, I shall come once again."