'Most designers in India are crap'

From the heart of Lakme India Fashion Week, Rohit Bal, the Delhi-based enfant terrible of Indian fashion, bares his soul. Scene One: The Regal Room in Mumbai's Oberoi Hotel, circa the late '80s. At a Rohit Khosla fashion show, amidst the applauding audience, the figure of a wildly cheering young designer, Rohit Bal, who dramatically falls on to his knees in sheer admiration for his mentor, is noted.Scene Two: A hotel in Bangkok, circa the late '90s. A clutch of Mumbai's rich and famous has flown down to boogie town for the weekend. After three days of relentless partying the group is ready to call it a night, when a tired and emotional Bal has to be persuaded by friends to give up the idea of walking the wild side at the other end of town. Scene Three: Vijay Mallya's super luxury home in Goa, circa 2003: The high-jinks at a midnight pool party are disrupted when a bleeding Bal with a bloody nose is attended to by minders, after he has slipped and fallen on the tiles. I am from the heart. I am heart." Away from the din and manic cacophony of the Lakme India Fashion Week in Delhi, in a corner of the Grand Hotel's Whiskey Bar, I am sitting with the flamboyant enfant terrible of Indian fashion, Rohit Bal, who is on his third Cosmo at five in the evening. Outside in the lobby, the poseurs are preening, the cameras are whirring and the sound bytes are flying at an alarming rate. But here, we are engulfed in a cocoon of self-expression... ..."With me, what you see is what you get, there are no high-flying fundas," says the designer, who, in a career of 15 years, has spawned an empire that includes wedding-planning, trousseaus, high-end watches, shoes, brand ambassadorships, haute couture, pret, diffusion lines and soon-to-be launched fragrances, cosmetics, and a restaurant that carry his imprimatur. Indeed, if a Martian were to drop into urban India and ask to be taken to its designer, chances are that he would be led to Rohit Bal. Such is the ubiquitous nature of his fame, and notoriety. But today, I realise that away from the strobe lights, Bal, or Gudda as he is better known, is a different animal. There is a focused, thoughtful, caring side to him and even "some method to the madness," as he says. "I've always followed my own instincts, lived by my own principles, done whatever I've done with integrity," he says, adding, "I really love what I am doing." In fact, it is known in fashion circles that however late he may be up partying all night, you can be sure that come afternoon and the gymgoing, tennis-playing Bal will be at his factory at Noida, in confabulations with clients, his CEO, his eight designers, his merchandisers or his marketing men. "There is no substitute for hard work," he says, "And there is enormous pressure to stay where I am; sustaining success is more difficult than achieving it." To be sure, amidst the babble of the designer boom, few understand the role of a true designer in the western tradition as well as Bal. "Most of the designers in India are crap," he says. "There are too many wannabe designers. To be a designer today means more than making beautiful clothes. You need the whole package: talent, a refined sense of aesthetics, a knowledge of fashion, extreme passion, marketing skills, an understanding of how to deal with the press, knowledge of your clients, the ability to speak well. It's a huge responsibility," says the man who acknowledges Abu Jani-Sandeep Khosla, Tarun Tahiliani, Rajesh Pratap Singh, and Shahab Durazi as amongst his peers. Amidst this gilt-edged list, Bal's name holds its own presence with... ... ease. But to reach this pinnacle hasn't been easy. The journey began, as many journeys do, in Kashmir, his birthplace where as the youngest in a large, happy, complicated and wealthy family, Bal dreamt of coffee-coloured corduroys and bell-bottomed trousers at 12. ("I was a freak! My romance with fashion began as a child," he says.) Bal's family epitomises India's aristocratic class. Generations of Oxford-educated, golf-playing, land-owning individuals, who lived in fabulous homes, and "whiled away their time and money". He grew up the apple of this family's eye. "You can't imagine how spoilt I was. I think the madness comes from this," he says, painting a vivid picture of a marble mansion in Srinagar, a beautiful colonial school, an active student life at Delhi's St Stephen's College and apprenticeship at his brother's flourishing export house, before a chance meeting with his soul-mate Rohit Khosla propelled him into designing a men's wear line for Ensemble's first showing in Delhi. From then, there's been no looking back, with the Rohit Bal name gaining such currency and gravitas in modern India that he is prompted to say, "I don't even call it my name any more." Today, after designing wedding trousseaux for some of India's most flamboyant weddings for business houses like the Ambanis, Bharat Shah and Modi, Bal says he has no clue where he's going to be in the next five years, except that he's going to work very hard. "My success gives me a real high. It's a great feeling that I've made it on my own, that I've never borrowed a sou from anybody. At tea-time at my factory, when I see hundreds of my employees, it's a high to know that all these people can depend... ... on me, and that I am providing for them!" But, as in most lives, there is here too, a dark side to the moon. "Most of my old friends are married with kids," says the 42-year-old single designer. "That's the only thing lacking in my life - a permanent partner. The times I feel lonely is at night when you want to be with someone. I am aware that lots of people hang around me because they want to be with 'Rohit Bal'. "There must be some deep hidden sadness in me," he says, "But, I had an extremely happy childhood. I was spoilt to death with love." And love is what Bal is best at spreading. Friends testify to his large-hearted, over-the-top, extravagant nature and his generosity of spirit. "Most people don't care about others, they only care about themselves," he says. "I see very few people who will lend a helping hand or go out of their way to do anything for anyone; anyone who can reach out to people in times of trouble - that is true spirituality." He says, adding about his extravagant lifestyle, that though he tends to drink a bit too much, he has "never done a line of coke or ecstasy or any drug in my life. That also is a high because I am in total control." And later this year, there will be a further reason to celebrate. Invited by the Kashmir government to lend his name and talent to a revival of the state's crafts, this son of Kashmir is going back home, in glory. "I am looking at doing some work in Kashmir. In fact, there is Kashmir in everything I do," says the son of chinaar trees, apple blossoms and the Dal Lake.