A campaign with Rohit Bal 36 years ago, Marketing & Advertising News, ET BrandEquity

Rohit BalThis is not an obituary. Honestly, I didn’t know Rohit Bal that well personally to pen one.

But this is a narrative that is both personal and professional, and that too from a very very long ago.

In the late 1980s, at HTA (better known to most as JWT, and now known as VML), I used to handle a small textile mill account called Bhilwara Synthetics Limited. Bhilwara was tucked away in Rajasthan, a 5-hour drive from Ajmer, where it would anyways take me an overnight train journey on a narrow metre gauge coach to first get to, from Old Delhi station. Before my time no one from HTA had ever really visited the client in Bhilwara – the client only would visit us at 35, Rani Jhansi Road, the famous HTA offices in Delhi.

The visits to Bhilwara turned out to be a good investment. With enhanced agency interaction, my client interface Sunil Chaddha started pushing the millowners to advertise more. Budgets went up significantly. Creative quality too improved dramatically (earlier as a lazy, almost-forgotten small brand creative guys at HTA would duck any work on Bhilwara labelling it down-market and cheap) but with more monies now available, the account started to catch the attention of the more senior folks.

In 1988, Chaddhaji (as he was commonly referred to at the mill) briefed me on a campaign that would be a precursor to the launch of Bhilwara’s entry into the poly-wool segment – hitherto they were only in the more mass polyester-viscose business. I presented a campaign that had a very hardy, very macho Texan look with cowboy hats and ankle boots. Chaddhaji instantly approved the campaign. And that is where my Rohit Bal story begins.

Back then there were really no designers or stylists available to help create the ‘look’ of the campaign. Though Bhilwara had sanctioned us a substantial budget by the standards of those days, but yet not enough to hire top talent. So the producer Nikhil Rawley and I decided to work with young, upcoming professionals. He suggested Binod Pradhan as cinematographer (later famous for 1942 A Love Story, Devdas, Rang De Basanti) and Chien Wien Lee as the photographer – Chien was then just 27 years old but already the rising star in his trade.

We got stuck on the models and the stylists. A friend of mine who was a fashion journalist and taught occasionally at the newly opened National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT) suggested I meet a freshly minted NIFT graduate called Rohit Bal – Gudda. A very fair, light-eyed, long-haired youngster turned up to meet me at Bercos, the Chinese restaurant in Connaught Place’s inner-circle. He almost looked like a gypsy with his goldy locks and his casual demeanour did not really inspire too much confidence at first go. Any case, I showed him the layouts. The creative director tried to explain what he wanted. Gudda just kept listening. After the briefing was over, he just looked at me and said he wasn’t interested in the assignment. I was a bit surprised. I asked him why. He said the layouts look like sh*t. The clothes, as depicted, look like they’ve been stolen from a Marlboro ad. “Nothing interesting”, he stated matter-of-factly and got up to leave. Despite his brusque rejection, I liked him instantly. He had a rare panache, and self-confidence, for someone almost my age, even younger.

I signalled to him to sit down. My creative colleague wasn’t too pleased. But there was something about Gudda that I found re-assuring. And inspiring. It had I think to do with his body language and the languid ease with which he conveyed his point-of-view. “So what do you suggest?” I asked him. “Junk this stuff. Start anew.”

I figured he knew what he was saying. I took his advice. He became the lead stylist on the campaign. He sketched out fresh renditions of the clothes and the visuals. We were earlier planning to shoot in Jaisalmer. Gudda however suggested Udaipur because the Lake Pichola had completely dried up that year – “The waterless lake and the palaces in the background will look super,” said he. Rawley, Pradhan and Lee concurred. And we headed to Udaipur and Lake Palace sans the water.

Rohit Bal also introduced me to Rohit Khosla, then one of India’s top designers, as the lead model for the TVC. Khosla, courtesy Bal, signed up nearly for free. Then one day, Rohit Bal brought along another young designer called Suneet Verma who he said would ‘do’ the clothes for Bryan, our other model. So young Verma, who too was almost Bal’s age joined the team – almost gratis.

The big difference that Gudda made to the clothes was that he changed the pants to breeches and jodhpuris worn with stylish blazers. And without the shirt being tucked in. It was a look that even the likes of Raymond or Vimal or Gwalior had not tried till then. It suddenly made Bhilwara look very avant garde and upmarket. Chaddhaji took no time to approve the new creatives – a very bold decision for a brand not really known for its style or fashion quotient.

At the shoot, Gudda would be all over the location. Adding a belt here, a cravat there, sharing his own glares for the model to use – by the second day of the shoot Gudda had befriended local royalty and invited them to our shoot. So, suddenly we had access to parts of the Lake Palace, Shiv Niwas Palace and Shikaarbadi where earlier we had been told not to even come near. I was amazed by Gudda’s socialising skills and resourcefulness.

Binod Pradhan and he really bonded well. Gudda and he would chat often on the compositions. Chien Wien would also heed his advice. Rawley was almost marginalised.

Beyond the shoot, Gudda would also be the life of the after-shoot party every evening. The food, the drinks, the music – most importantly the venue – Gudda would add his touch of class and colour to everything. Post sun-down would entirely be Gudda’s domain. And everyone would have fun.

The campaign was a big hit. Bhilwara suddenly entered the big league of men’s fabric brands (unfortunately they couldn’t sustain the up-tick) and sales went up exponentially.

Unfortunately, Gudda and I didn’t remain connected. If and when we ran into each other at social events there would always be a warm hug and a big hand-shake. He met me a couple of times when I was running Zee with a proposal for a really big fashion show but somehow we couldn’t progress it much. He invited me to a meal at Veda but I just couldn’t make it.

Of course, over the years his fame and his personal brand kept growing and growing. When I look back to the 1988 Bhilwara project of 36 years ago, all I am reminded of is the famous proverb ‘honhar birwaan ke hote chikne paat’ – a person’s early characteristics often foreshadow their future potential or traits.

Goodbye Gudda.

• Published On Nov 4, 2024 at 09:29 AM IST

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