Sameer Gudhate presents the Book Review of When A Butterfly Loves the Rain by Shriya Karthik

Imagine this: the sound of rain tapping against your window late at night, that soft rhythm that makes the world slow down. You’re curled up with a cup of tea, and suddenly you stumble upon a book that doesn’t just echo the rain outside, but somehow breathes with it. That’s what happened when I picked up When A Butterfly Loves the Rain by Shriya Karthik. I didn’t just read this anthology of poems — I wandered through it like a dream, half-real, half-imagined, and completely drenched in feeling.

What struck me first was the honesty of it. Shriya doesn’t posture or pretend; she opens the window to her inner world and simply lets us in. The collection carries us through daydreams, heartbreaks, friendships, and those tender, fleeting moments of life that we often overlook. And though each poem stands alone, together they form a mosaic — one that mirrors the mind of someone who notices beauty in both the raindrop and the silence it falls into.

The writing itself is delicate, sometimes almost fragile, like glass you’re afraid to touch too hard in case it shatters. Her language is lyrical yet approachable, which makes the emotions hit even harder. You don’t need to wrestle with her lines; you drift with them, the way mist clings to morning air. At times, the rhythm is brisk, like a racing thought (“Starting 20” feels exactly like that restless stage of life). At others, it lingers — like in “Coffee Shop,” where you can almost smell the roasted beans and feel the quiet ache of watching love unfold at the next table while sipping alone.

And oh, the characters — if you can call them that. These are less people and more shadows of longing, fragments of memory, emotions personified. A lost tear, silence itself, a butterfly in love with the rain. The imagery becomes the character, and in doing so, it feels strangely universal. I found myself pausing at “To Dad, from my Heart,” not just reading Shriya’s words, but thinking of my own father, of absence and longing, and how grief has a way of quietly sitting beside us, even in moments we thought were light.

Structurally, the book doesn’t bind itself to a strict arc. Instead, it flows like rain down a windowpane — unpredictable, sometimes meandering, but always moving forward. There’s no single climax, no grand reveal, and that’s precisely why it works. It mimics the way memory and emotion arrive: scattered, sudden, achingly human.

The themes are woven gently — love in its many shades, the strangeness of growing up, the tenderness of friendship, the shadows of loss, the resilience of hope. What I admired most was how these weren’t presented with sweeping declarations, but with small, precise observations. A coffee cup. A Wednesday. A tear at nineteen. The “little things,” as one poem reminds us, that often hold the weight of an entire life.

Emotionally, this book caught me off guard. I expected pretty verses; instead, I found moments that stayed. The sting of “Letter to Silence,” the soft ache of “Wishbound,” the innocent yearning in “In Every Glimpse.” I closed the book feeling lighter yet strangely raw, as though someone had quietly pointed at the parts of me I’d been ignoring.

If I had to point out weaknesses, I’d say a few poems felt like sketches rather than complete paintings — ideas that could have been expanded. The simplicity of language, while often its strength, sometimes leaned into repetition. But even then, I couldn’t shake the thought: maybe that’s intentional. After all, dreams are like that too — fleeting, half-finished, yet somehow unforgettable.

Personally, this collection reminded me of being twenty again, staring out of rain-streaked windows and believing that every passing moment might mean something. It made me think about how much of life is just learning to notice, to feel, to hold on, and to let go. And that’s the magic of poetry, isn’t it? It doesn’t give answers; it hands you mirrors.

So, would I recommend When A Butterfly Loves the Rain? Absolutely. Especially if you’re someone who finds solace in quiet reflections, if you’ve ever watched the rain and felt your own heart mirrored in its rhythm. It’s not a book you speed through — it’s one you sip, like warm coffee, letting each poem linger a little before moving on.

As I put it down, I realized something simple yet profound: sometimes the smallest poems carry the biggest truths. Shriya Karthik has captured that beautifully here. And maybe, just maybe, the next time you see rain on your window, you’ll think of butterflies too.

If you love poetry that feels like a conversation with your own soul, go find this book. Let it sit on your nightstand. Let it whisper to you on quiet nights. Who knows? It might just change the way you see the rain.

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