This happened to my great-great-great grandmother. My great-grandmother told this story to her kids and my grandmother told. I hope you enjoy!
In a village within India, a woman stood in her kitchen, her only source of light was a few carbide and oil lamps.
It was way past midnight and Meenatchi stayed awake, busily preparing muruku for the upcoming Diwali festival. She peacefully made the crispy snacks, with all her ten children fast asleep.
She drained the finished muruku with a strainer and put it on a bowl with a colander to drain off any excess oil.
She continued making the fried delights, alone in the dimly lit kitchen. She grabbed one of the muruku and crunched into it to see if it tasted good. It was good and crunchy, perfect for the upcoming festival. She turned away from the fire for a moment and almost jumped at what she saw.
A hairy black hand emerged from the middle of the back door. It seemed to just go through it as if there was a hole in the middle of it.
"Can I have one too?" A gruff voice asked.
Meenatchi figured that it was because of the strong smell the fried treat produced when freshly prepared, and also because it produces a loud sound when eaten.
She started thinking of what she should do and got an idea.
"Just a minute," Meenatchi said, turning back to her stove.
She grabbed the colander and placed the muruku on a large plate before immersing it into the sizzling hot oil in the wok.
"Just wait a moment, it's still getting ready," Meenatchi said.
She took the colander out of the hot oil and went towards the waiting hairy hand that patiently waited.
"Here you go!" Meenatchi exclaimed, pressing the hot colander onto the grizzly hand.
She heard a screech followed by the hand disappearing from her sight.
"That's what you get for disturbing me," Meenatchi said, putting the colander back in the bowl. "I stay up so late to make muruku in peace, and you come here and ask for one? Go bother someone else."
She prepared the rest of the muruku without any disturbance from the black hairy creature.
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