The Oath of Karkal
Folk stories from the Rakteshwari tradition — original tales, analysis, and storytelling history
The Oath of Karkal
In a village near Karkal, in the foothills where the Western Ghats begin their descent toward the coast, there was a Bhuta sthana dedicated to Rakteshwari that had been tended by the same family for seven generations. The shrine was a simple thing — a raised stone platform under an ancient jackfruit tree, draped in red cloth, with brass lamps that were lit every evening without fail. The family's name was Shetty, and the eldest son of each generation inherited the duty of maintaining the shrine.
In the 1970s, the duty fell to a man named Dayananda Shetty. He was educated in Mangalore, worked in a bank, and considered himself modern. He did not believe in Bhutas. He performed the rituals because his mother insisted, and because the village expected it. But he did it mechanically — lamp, flowers, a muttered prayer, done.
When his mother died, Dayananda decided to stop. The rituals were superstition, he told his wife. The land around the shrine was valuable — they could build on it, expand the house. He let the lamps go dark. He removed the red cloth. He told the village he was done.
Within a month, his youngest daughter fell ill. Not a fever — something the doctors in Mangalore could not explain. The girl stopped eating. She would sit in the corner of the room and stare at the wall, speaking in a language that sounded like old Tulu — a dialect nobody in the family spoke anymore. She was seven years old.
The village elders came to the house. They did not argue with Dayananda about belief or superstition. They simply said: 'The Kola has not been performed. The covenant is broken. This is what happens.'
Dayananda's wife, terrified, called for a Bhuta Kola performer — a man from a Nalke family, the hereditary performers of spirit rituals in Tulu Nadu. He came within two days. The preparations took a full day — the shrine was cleaned, rebuilt, draped in new red cloth. A rooster was selected. The drums were tuned.
That night, the Kola was performed. When the possession came, it was immediate and violent. The performer dropped to his knees, then rose in a way that looked like he was being lifted from above. The voice that came from him was not his. It was female, furious, and specific.
It named Dayananda. It listed his offenses — not just the neglect of the shrine, but acts of dishonesty at his bank, a loan he had denied to a widow, a promise he had made to his dying mother and broken within weeks. The village heard everything. Dayananda stood in the torchlight, exposed.
Then the voice changed. It softened — not to kindness, but to something like a verdict being handed down by a judge who has decided on mercy instead of maximum punishment. The terms were clear: restore the shrine, perform the annual Kola without fail, return the widow's loan application with approval, and never again let the lamps go dark.
Dayananda agreed. The performer drank the blood offering. The girl's illness broke that same night — she ate for the first time in three weeks the next morning.
The Shetty family has not missed a single evening lamp since. Dayananda's son now tends the shrine. He does not call it superstition. He does not call it religion. He calls it what everyone in the village calls it: the arrangement.
What Is Rakteshwari?
Rakteshwari (ರಕ್ತೇಶ್ವರಿ) is a blood-drinking female spirit from the Tulu Nadu region of coastal Karnataka, deeply embedded in the Bhuta Kola spirit-worship tradition. Her name derives from 'Rakta' (blood) and 'Ishwari' (goddess/sovereign woman) — she is, literally, the Sovereign of Blood. She belongs to the elaborate pantheon of Bhutas (spirits) and Daivas (deities) unique to the Tulu-speaking communities of Dakshina Kannada and Udupi districts, a tradition that predates both Brahmanical Hinduism and Buddhism in the region.