After Kantara released, everyone started talking about Panjurli. This spirit we’ve known all our lives suddenly became a name across India. People who had never heard of Bhoota Kola or Daiva worship began watching documentaries, asking questions, even visiting our daivastanas in Tulu Nadu. I remember watching Rishab Shetty enter trance on screen — something stirred in my chest. It wasn’t just our story anymore. The whole country could feel it. Now, with Kantara Part 2 on the horizon, I wonder — will they show Ullalthi Devi this time? Many outside don’t know her, but here in our groves, she is the Mother, the one who walks before Panjurli, who blesses and watches. And behind them both stands Guliga — the fierce boundary keeper, the one whose presence you never ignore.
The Sacred Guardian of the Groves
Ullalthi Devi isn’t just a “goddess” in the way outsiders might understand. She is a Daiva — a spirit, yes, but so much more. She is the very feminine force of nature, the guardian of our forests, our women, our crops, and our lives. Her presence is strongest in sacred groves called daivastanas, especially in the dense green patches that people wouldn’t dare cut down, even for timber or money. To disturb those groves is to invite her wrath — and trust me, nobody wants that.
She’s called Ullalthi — the one who stays within, the resident mother spirit. In many places, she’s not shown with an idol or grand statue. Sometimes there's just a stone or a small raised platform — and even that is enough to feel her. Most of the time, you feel her through trance, turmeric, coconut offerings, and the silence that thickens before she comes. You see her in the movement of the possessed, in the cries of the oracle, and in the eyes of the old women who know the rituals like second nature.
A Goddess Beyond Form
Some temples like the one near Kelinja do have shrines dedicated to Ullalthi Mata, and yes, there is a place to light lamps and offer coconuts. But that’s not the full story. You won’t find Ullalthi’s photos in tourist shops. No fancy idol. No big poster to hang on your wall. And that’s how it’s supposed to be.
She is a goddess beyond form. More than stone, she is presence. She walks between the trees, behind the wind, and inside the trance. She is not sculpted — she is invoked. People say she comes when the drums start, when the turmeric is scattered, when the oracle begins to shake. And if she comes, she comes fully. There's no mistaking it.
The One Who Protects Life
Her blessings are not about wealth or gold or career. They are about health, fertility, safe childbirth, protection of crops, and the well-being of the village. Women go to her when they're pregnant. Farmers pray to her before sowing seeds. Healers call her name when something is wrong that even doctors can’t explain. She’s fierce when disrespected, but incredibly nurturing when honoured. Like the Earth herself — she gives, protects, and heals, but she will also shake if angered.
The Son and the Shadow: Panjurli and Guliga
Panjurli has become the face of Bhoota Kola in popular imagination, thanks to Kantara. But here’s something many don’t realize — Panjurli is the boar spirit son of Ullalthi Devi. In the oral stories we’ve heard, Ullalthi created Panjurli as a guardian of the people, a protector of dharma. He goes where injustice needs to be set right. He takes the anger. He delivers the justice. But it is Ullalthi who gave him that strength. Without her, there would be no Panjurli.
In many Kola performances, you’ll see Ullalthi invoked first, or her blessings taken before Panjurli appears. Sometimes, her shrine is just beside his. They don’t compete — they complete each other. She is the womb, and he is the force. She is the root, and he is the branch. She watches silently, while he runs wild with fire.
But no story of daiva worship here is complete without mentioning Guliga — the fierce one who comes last, when the trance is at its most intense and raw. Where Panjurli is fire, Guliga is smoke. Where Panjurli sets things right, Guliga ensures the boundary is never crossed again.
Guliga is neither soft, nor forgiving. His energy is wild, unpredictable, and uncompromising. People fear him, yes — but they also deeply respect him, because Guliga’s wrath cleanses. He doesn’t come for everyone, only when the time is right. And when he comes, even the bravest fall silent. He’s not the one you call — he’s the one who comes when the truth needs teeth.
Some say Guliga is Panjurli’s companion, others say he’s more like an elder or enforcer. But all agree on one thing: wherever Guliga walks, the ground is never the same. He protects the truth with terrifying clarity. He doesn’t comfort — he corrects. And even Panjurli steps aside when Guliga’s presence thickens the air.
No Lights, No Cameras — Just Faith
The most powerful thing about Ullalthi Amma — and Panjurli and Guliga too — is that they don’t ask for spotlight. There are no temple priests, big festivals, or promotional posters. Their space is often just a forest patch, a few lamps, some turmeric, and a community that remembers. That’s it.
But when you stand in that grove during a Kola, when the drums beat like your own heartbeat, and when the oracle begins to tremble and speak in a voice not his own — you’ll know they’re there.
They don’t need to be seen. They need to be felt.
Closing Thoughts
I grew up hearing stories about Ullalthi from my grandmother. She used to say, “If you ever feel lost, just go sit by the grove. She’ll listen.” And I believe that. Sometimes when things are too noisy, too fast, I go and sit under that old tree near the daivastana. I don’t say anything. I just sit. And somewhere in the breeze or the rustling leaves, I feel her. She doesn’t speak, but she answers.
And when the village is restless or something feels broken, I’ve seen the elders call on Panjurli. And if even that isn’t enough — if things are really out of balance — then Guliga is invoked. You don’t invite him lightly. But when he comes, he leaves no doubt.
So if you're ever in Tulu Nadu, don’t just look for the famous Bhootas. Go looking for the Mother who watches quietly, the Boar who protects fiercely, and the Shadow who guards the line between right and wrong.
They’ve always been here.
And they always will be.