Vashish Jaunky (Mauritius) is one of six shortlisted African authors for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2025. (Photo: provided)
The Commonwealth Short Story Prize is awarded annually for the best piece of unpublished short fiction from any of the Commonwealth’s 54 member states.
An international judging panel selected the 25 writers from almost 8,000 total entries – a record-breaking number and nearly ten percent higher than 2024.
Six writers from the African continent feature on the 2025 Commonwealth Short Story Prize shortlist.
Jannike Bergh conducted interviews with the shortlisted authors from Africa. Below is an interview with Vashish Jaunky (Mauritius).
Hello and congratulations on being shortlisted for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2025! Please tell me a bit about who you are and what you usually write.
Thank you! I’m a 25-year-old writer and journalist from Mauritius with a degree in French. I’m passionate about art, culture and nature, and my work often revolves around the interpersonal experiences that shape our lives. I try to unearth unspoken memories and emotions, and explore traditions, cultural identity and the social or spiritual issues that often go unnoticed.
Could you tell me about your country and what you experience as story material in the country you are from? How does one shed clichés and tell a story that is uniquely yours and universal at the same time?
Mauritius, found in the Indian Ocean, may be small in size, but it is monumental in spirit. Collectively, we are a very diverse population that never misses an opportunity to flaunt our serene multiculturalism. The interesting thing about this place is that writing material seems to come from all over the world, whether it’s from my own ancestral land, India, or from different parts of Africa, or from the past through our shared colonial stories. We speak different languages, which adds even more layers to the narratives here. Mauritius seems to be this inexhaustible matrix of creation. Talent is found in every corner, and it’s not performative. There’s this fascinating tension between marketing the country as a paradisiacal tourist destination and the actual real life of what the island is really about. There’s so much to explore creatively right now, and so much that can inspire fiction here.
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Mauritius seems to be this inexhaustible matrix of creation. Talent is found in every corner, and it’s not performative. There’s this fascinating tension between marketing the country as a paradisiacal tourist destination and the actual real life of what the island is really about.
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We often do not realise it, but as much as our experiences seem totally unique, they are, most of the time, collective with maybe slight variations and nuances to separate them. Our emotions, our thoughts, our approach to life – all of these can feel incredibly individual while being profoundly collective. There are things like death, tense family dynamics, heartbreak, love and friendships, that can look so different on the outside, but in our own internal spaces, we tend to meet around those issues. To shed clichés, I genuinely think we need to be ready to be vulnerable – relentlessly – and understand that our experiences shouldn’t isolate us. They should instead make us more open to the world. A story is rarely an individual product. Even fiction is inspired by everyone and everything we come across, hear, observe and hold space for. This is what makes it universal.
What is your story about – and what inspired you to write this specific story?
“Le Soleil n’est pas encore mort”, originally written in French and translated to “The sun isn’t dead yet” by Edwige-Renée Dro, is a story that explores what grief can look like in spaces where expressing love is never really a possibility. It delves into a playful exploration of regrets, the urgency to change, memories and traditions through the life of the protagonist Raman, an alcoholic rejected by his family for his undesirable traits and way of life. When he learns of his uncle’s death, he must venture through his native village to attend the funeral. This journey leads him to reflect on his own life and on his uncle’s existence, masculinity and spirituality.
This story came about after having to attend way too many funerals post-Covid. I needed space to process what I had seen, heard and learned. Death, or at least the impermanence of life, makes you think about many things and somehow turns you toward hope, which inspired the title in a way. As long as we have the sun, we also have each other, we have life, and it is our responsibility to keep going and to change.
Do you think stories can make a difference? Tell me about a story you have read that you still think about.
I like to think that our biggest superpower as human beings, or as entities of nature, is our ability to change every day, every second. It is fascinating. Literature, fiction, the arts in general, and creativity are tools given to us to amplify and nurture the change we want to see within ourselves, and also around us. It is undeniable that storytelling makes a difference. It is a gateway to a new life, to new perspectives, to new ways of being with ourselves and with others.
Crépuscule du tourment by Léonora Miano and Tropique de la violence by Nathacha Appanah are stories that have stayed with me. These are books I’ve read more than three times, not only for their mastery of language but also for their narrative excellence. They both explore our relationships with one another, modern masculinity, and political and societal problematics with wisdom, depth and effervescence.
What does it mean for you to be shortlisted for a prize like this?
To be shortlisted for the Commonwealth – I think, above all, it gives me the material to affirm myself further as a writer, and that truly means so much to me. I am beyond grateful to be seen and surrounded by so many incredible creatives and individuals around the world. It is also, to me, a confirmation that writing is a non-negotiable practice in life; it is the way forward.
What is your writing process, and what do you typically do once you have finished a piece and sent it into the world?
My writing process until now has been to do a deep reflection first; it’s a lot like creating a mood board, but with words and sketches of what I want the story to be sculpted with, what I want it to communicate. I also like to think of what I want visually. For instance, “The sun isn’t dead yet” starts with a poetic aerial battle of dragonflies around the protagonist, who is bathed in sunlight. Visually, I thought this would be stunning, and I wanted to describe it as vividly as I could for a short story. So, it’s basically that: gathering ideas, thoughts, words, sounds and visuals first, and then getting into the writing.
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Writing is far from being the simplest form of expression, but when the call for it comes from within, we know we have no choice but to listen. And I think that’s my only advice to every aspiring writer and to myself: to trust that voice that’s telling you to write – not to postpone it, not to distract it, not to fight it, but instead to surrender to it.
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From there, I give myself a deadline, and I write morning and night to meet it. That’s about it. It’s really just discipline and not giving up. There are no secrets or glamour to it. When I’m done and I send it out into the world, I like to detach from the story and forget about it. I’ll go on hikes, be in the ocean as much as possible, and read new books, which helps me step out of the story’s universe. It’s my way of not trying to control the outcome of the work.
A fast-changing world has introduced AI into our lives, whether we like it or not. While some may embrace it and include it in their creative process, what are your thoughts on the matter?
I try to prevent it from existing in my own writing process and creative endeavours. Yes, it might help make things easier, maybe, but I don’t think I want things to be easier for me in that sense. Writing helps with mastery over oneself; it cultivates discipline and preserves attention span. It’s like tending to a garden, and I would like to do that with natural tools and products, which for me are my imagination, living life with others, and my own research and writing abilities.
From your experience, what advice or message do you have for young writers?
Writing is far from being the simplest form of expression, but when the call for it comes from within, we know we have no choice but to listen. And I think that’s my only advice to every aspiring writer and to myself: to trust that voice that’s telling you to write – not to postpone it, not to distract it, not to fight it, but instead to surrender to it. Writing takes discipline, diligence, research, consistency – but above all, I think it requires faith in ourselves, in life, in whatever guiding forces move us.
Also read:
Press release: 2025 Commonwealth short story prize shortlist announced
Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2025 shortlist: an interview with Priscilla Ametorpe Goka
Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2025 shortlist: an interview with Stephen M Finn
Commonwealth Short Story Prize 2025 shortlist: an interview with Joshua Lubwama
