In October 2022, the peaceful Elanthoor village in Kerala was propelled to national prominence for reasons as gruesome as they were disbelieving. Two women, Padma and Roslyn, both struggling lottery vendors, were enticed into a secluded residence under false promises. There, they were tortured, killed, hacked, and reportedly cannibalized in a ghastly ritual human sacrifice ceremony meant to usher in prosperity and wealth for a local couple. The crime, executed with psychopathic precision, shocked India and sparked intense debate once again regarding superstition, socio-economic desperation, and ritual violence.

The Elanthoor human sacrifice case did not take place in some far-off, ignorance-ridden tribal outpost but in one of India's most educated and liberal states. That, perhaps, is what rendered the crime so disconcerting: a contemporary horror born of ancient belief, enabled by technology, and driven by greed and fear.

The Crime and the Accused

The investigation started when Padma, a 52-year-old Tamil Nadu woman who lived in Kochi, went missing. CCTV had her last spotted near Elanthoor with a strange man. This led the police to Muhammad Shafi, alias Rasheed, a criminal with a record of sexual assault and forgery. As the noose grew tight around him, the ghastly extent of the crime was revealed.

Shafi had reportedly led Bhagawal Singh, a massage therapist and traditional healer, and his wife Laila into believing that only human sacrifice could raise their family out of poverty. Singh and Laila, who were impatient for divine blessings and material comfort, were convinced to commit the crimes. Shafi impersonated a tantric and masterminded the whole operation.

Detectives then learned that Roslyn, yet another marginalized woman, had also been killed in the same manner at the beginning of September. The women were killed brutally, their bodies dismembered and buried at Singh and Laila's compound. Confessions and postmortem examinations revealed traces of cannibalism — a further twist of horror on an already horrific case.

The Modus Operandi and Ritualistic Elements

Police reports and witness statements hold that the offenses were carefully crafted. Shafi produced fictional social media accounts and internet escort ads to lure the victims. He focused on women who were socially disadvantaged and economically impoverished, offering them money and employment.

After arriving in Elanthoor, the victims were taken to the house under the pretext of praying. They were tied up and tortured there before being slaughtered with sharp objects. The rituals involved, according to reports, were flesh-eating, calling upon spirits, and offering blood, all by arcane tantric rituals.

The investigative squad discovered occult items, ritual notes penned by hand, and video evidence that showed a firm belief in black magic and supernatural vengeance. The offense was not spontaneous but ritualistically staged — a terrifying but unusual reminder of how entrenched superstitions can assume deadly form.

Kerala's Shock and the National Response

Kerala, a state usually glorified by social indicators and rationalist movements, was taken aback. The case defied expectations regarding the decline of superstition's power in contemporary India. The public discourse soon shifted to the state's role in enhancing scientific temper, the vulnerability of marginalized women, and the revival of cult behavior during times of economic hardship.

The Kerala police were themselves commended for the speedy investigation and also for linking two unrelated cases of missing persons. Yet the big question remained: how could such horrors take place in a state which had such high human development rankings?

Ritual Crime in Modern India: A Broader Pattern

Although the Elanthoor case was especially horrific, it wasn't an isolated incident. Throughout India, ritual crimes are emerging with sickening regularity. From the Manvat murders in Maharashtra during the 1970s to the B. Bharathi case in Telangana in 2021, in which a mother sacrificed her infant daughter to 'pacify serpentine spirits,' belief repeatedly blurs into brutality.

More often than not, such acts are motivated by desperation — economic, emotional, or psychological. Tantrics and self-styled godmen take advantage of the fears and vulnerabilities of individuals and groups and provide supernatural remedies for very earthly ills. Belief in sacrificial power as a quick route to success or a cure continues both in rural and urban India.

Media Coverage and Ethical Challenges

The Elanthoor case turned into a media circus. News networks broadcast sensational re-enactments, tending to blur the boundary between facts and voyeurism. Photographs of the crime scene, video of the accused role-playing, and lurid headlines took over the news agenda.

While such reporting drew attention to the horrific character of the crime, it also raised ethical concerns. Were the victims being dehumanized once more in death? Was the sensationalism of the media overwhelming the discussion regarding systemic change and mental illness?

The case also reopened controversy regarding journalistic responsibility, specifically when reporting on crimes that include mental illness, religious belief, or ritual behavior. In certain cases, reporting was insensitive, concentrated more on 'shock value' than understanding.

Legal Proceedings and Institutional Response

The three accused, Shafi, Singh, and Laila, were arrested and indicted on charges of murder, conspiracy, and violation of the Indian Penal Code and Kerala Prevention of Witch-Hunting Act. The case has since been through the Kerala judicial system, and as of late 2024, the three are still in custody awaiting trial.

The Kerala government promised to tighten legal measures against superstition and ritual violence. Public health activists have demanded increased expenditure on mental healthcare and community outreach programs that enlighten citizens about the risks of such beliefs.

There have also been fresh demands for an anti-superstition law, replicated after Maharashtra's anti-superstition act, criminalizing exploitative activities in the guise of religious or occult rituals.

Societal Implications: Gender, Class, and Belief

All of the victims in most of these ritual crimes share a commonality: their vulnerability. Both Padma and Roslyn in Elanthoor were poor women, employed in informal economies, isolated from strong social safety nets. Their killings highlight the intersection of poverty, gender, and belief, where structural marginalization renders individuals vulnerable targets.

While the victims, whose bodies are violated, bear the costs, the perpetrators usually hold positions of relative social power, whether as spiritual leaders, husbands, or traditional healers. The asymmetry of power enables them to coerce, manipulate, and brutalize under the cover of religion.

Such dynamics require a reconsideration of how law enforcement, media, and civil society respond to ritual violence, not just as criminal behavior, but as a social process that originates from gross inequality and cultural habit.

The Ghost of Elanthoor

The Elanthoor case of human sacrifice is a tale of unimaginable brutality, but also one of insight into the seedy underbelly of belief systems that still rot in the darkness of modernity. It reveals the institutional failure to foresee or prevent them, and the vulnerability of those standing on the fringes of society.

As the country observes the legal process unfolding, the real test of justice will not just be in punishing the guilty but in how society decides to stop the next Elanthoor — by combating superstition, strengthening the weak, and reasserting reason over ritual.

The spirit of Elanthoor is not only in the haunted house of the criminal acts, but also in every community where silence, stigma, and superstition continue to rule.

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