Nearly 15 years ago, I met Rohit Bal late one morning at New Delhi’s The Grand hotel. The five-star was teeming over with beautiful people in its lobby – models, socialites, celebrities and other fashionably dressed somebodys. Gudda, as Bal was called by those who met him even twice, was preening about with a glass of champagne in his hand. “It’s only noon, Gudda,” I complained seeing his champagne tulip. “It’s fashion week,” he retorted before embracing me in a giant bear hug.
Gudda was like that. Always up for a good time. A good time was Gudda and Gudda was a good time. The two were inseparable, I suspect, till his dying days.
Rohit Bal, Gudda as we loved him, died last evening in New Delhi. The Fashion Design Council of India (FDCI), of which he was a founding member, announced his passing last night: “We mourn the passing of Legendary designer Rohit Bal. He was a founding member of the Fashion Design Council of India (FDCI). Known for his unique blend of traditional patterns with modern sensibilities, Bal’s work redefined Indian fashion, and inspired generations. His legacy of artistry, and innovation along with forward thinking will live on in the fashion world.”
Bal had checked into hospital complaining of chest pain in the wee hours of yesterday morning. As the evening progressed, it seems the doctors couldn’t revive him after several hours of trying. Bal has had heart ailments since 2010, when he had had a cardiac arrest and angioplasty. The last two years have seen him in and out of hospital and ICUs, often nearly dying, but then coming back to tell us we were all fussing and he’s absolutely fine.
Gudda believed he lived to pursue beauty and to pursue happiness, and those came from fine fashions and a life of parties.
Rohit Bal, 63, was among India’s finest crop of designers. He made lush clothes, with reams of fabrics and layers, fabulously bold embroideries – roses, lotuses, peacocks – in gold and fine silk threads. Many of his motifs were derived from classical crafts, especially that of his hometown Kashmir. His clothing constructions were dipped into India’s heritage – shapes that filled Ahmedabad’s Calico Museum of Textiles. His workmanship was so fine, often you couldn’t tell whether his embroideries were threadwork or painted patterns.
His fashion shows were as dramatic as he was. Models sashayed through ponds and fountains. Antediluvian edifices were lit up as backdrops. The music was an homage to old-world etiquettes. And Gudda would always come out dancing a little jig to take a bow.
Rohit Bal was born in Srinagar on May 8, 1961, to a Kashmiri Pandit family. His family moved to New Delhi in the 1970s, where Bal would graduate in History at St. Stephen’s.
Bal was among India’s first crop of fashion designers as that term came to be introduced to India’s lexicon. The National Institute of Fashion Technology had opened in New Delhi, and he was among the first graduates. Indian fashion was just taking shape and innovative ideas that teamed western sophistication with Indian craft had begun experimenting. A decade or so later, India would have its first fashion week.
Bal became the face of fashion weeks in their earlier years. He would always be in the news, whether it was a fight with a fellow designer or then his controversial after-after parties. They were often late-night affairs brimming over with young male models aching to make it big in the glamour world. Bal was soon dubbed “the bad boy of Indian fashion”, a moniker I suspect he enjoyed. Bal’s ill health and his unserious business plans didn’t allow him to reach the professional highs his contemporaries, such as Tarun Tahiliani, would scale.
After beating the grim reaper for the nth time, Bal was last month’s fashion week finale designer. He came on stage for his dancing bow once again, but he could barely stand, and had to be helped up by his models. No one minded, his clothes were spectacular and Bollywood’s current It-girl Ananya Panday was his showstopper. The party always went on.
Bal will be remembered as a true fashion genius, an eccentric, aching heart that beats with immense passion for beauty and for life.
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