The many Amaravati (s)

There are several places globally that have a divine connotation to them, named after a certain celestial realm. In Hinduism, there's Amaravati (located at several places in India), Dwarka (in Gujarat), Varanasi (the former kingdom of Kashi, which is also a local railway station; along with numerous eponyms such as Uttarkashi, Kashipur, Guptkashi, etc.), and Ayodhya (with its variant Ayutthaya in Thailand). In Islam, the name Firdaus appears as a town near Aleppo in Syria, Al-Firdaws in Baghdad, a Firdaus district in Algeria, and even in the subcontinent as Firdaus Nagar or Firdaus Colony. In Christianity, the name Salem can be found in several places, including the state of Tamil Nadu in India. This post shall focus on the lesser-discussed Amaravati and its variants scattered across the Deccan, or Dakshin, region of India.

The word Amaravati appears in various sections of the epic poems Ramayana and Mahabharata, as the name literally means “abode of the immortals,” leaning toward the meaning of “heaven” in Hindu mythology. At present, politically, cities named Amaravati are located in several Indian states, such as:

1. Amaravati district, Maharashtra (formerly spelt as Amraoti).
2. Amaravathi, the legislative capital of Andhra Pradesh, located in the Palanadu district. 
3. Amaravathi River and dam situated in the Tiruppur district of Tamil Nadu. 
4. Ponnamaravathi (formerly Pon Amaravathi, situated in Pudukkotai district of Tamil Nadu. 

If we stretch our timeline a bit further back, during the reign of the Simhapura Dynasty (between the 4th to 10th centuries AD), the city of Amaravati existed on the coast of the Champa Kingdom, in what is now Vietnam. The place resonates today through the ruins of Mỹ Sơn and Trà Kiệu, located in modern-day Quảng Nam province.

But what was the purpose behind naming multiple cities as Amaravati, or Dwarka, or Kashi within the Hindu realm? A sense of royal power defined the importance and relevance of any city, and hence the name signified everything. A city named Amaravati was, in itself, a declaration of might—a subtle threat to enemies—because belief in the divine was far more deeply rooted than it is today. People genuinely believed in traditional logic and spiritual authority, and thus, naming a city as Amaravati made it appear stronger, more eternal, more aligned with cosmic order.

The Amaravati of today’s Andhra Pradesh, originally known as Dhanyakataka, rose as a major Mahayana Buddhist epicentre during the Satavahana Dynasty (2nd century BCE to 3rd century CE). The one in Maharashtra, previously known as Udumbaravati, came to prominence much later—in the 18th century—under the Maratha regime, and subsequently under the British. Under the leadership of Shri Veer Vamanrao Joshi, on 26th April 1930, over 10,000 people participated in the Amraoti Salt Satyagraha, defying the British-imposed salt law—an important moment in the Indian freedom struggle. The Amaravathi Dam in Tamil Nadu’s Tiruppur district is a much more recent development, while Ponnamaravathi in Pudukkottai was named after a post-Sangam-era legendary Tamil chieftain, Ponnar.

But enough of history—let’s now shed some light on the image of Amaravati in historical context. Did it evoke a powerful image, the way names like Dwarka, Kashi, and Mathura did in ancient times? If Amaravati was indeed a Buddhist centre—and once even the capital of the Satavahanas and Ikshvakus—did it eventually lose its spiritual significance when compared to these other sacred cities? The answer lies in the religious transition of the region. The realm of Dakshinaapatha gradually shifted from Buddhism to Shaivism and Vaishnavism—subsets of what we today call Hinduism—leading to Amaravati’s slow decline. Furthermore, unlike Kashi or Mathura, Amaravati lacked any strong mythological association. Its name may have carried spiritual weight, but the place itself became disconnected from the myths that sustain reverence. Even the Amaravati of Vietnam lost its influence due to the Đại Việt invasions and the Champa Kingdom’s southward migration to Vijaya and Panduranga. Years of military conflict, political fragmentation, and disruption of trade routes ultimately ended the sacred-political centrality of these Amaravatis. The rise of Hindu temple kingdoms and the neglect of Buddhist institutions meant Amaravatis were no longer considered capitals, and focus shifted toward newer settlements—many of which themselves bore the scars of war and reinvention.

In conclusion, Amaravati represents not just a name but an aspiration—a claim to divine permanence. Yet the endurance of such a name relies not only on etymology but on active cultural memory, myth-making, and spiritual continuity. Where that continuity was broken—by shifting faiths, falling dynasties, or changing political priorities—the image of Amaravati faded. It remains a powerful word, scattered across maps, but for most, it no longer evokes a living story. And without a story, even a city of the immortals can be forgotten.