The Art And Soul Of My Uncle Rohit Bal

By  Meghna Bal

NEW DELHI – Much has been said about my uncle, Rohit Bal, or ‘Guds chach’ as he was known to me, over the past few days. Papers are replete with tributes lauding his artistic capability, intelligence, exuberance, and dedication to the Indian artisan.

At the heart of these qualities was his empathy – a defining trait that has possibly seen less discussion in the media. I experienced Guds chach’s empathy as child. Being a child around adults is not easy, not least because there is a tendency to either patronize, ignore, or shoo away. But my uncle always engaged us like we were people.

He was never dismissive, always kind, and made us feel like he enjoyed our company – and that is how he treated the people who came into his life. He approached the living world with no judgment, embracing it for what it was, not what he wanted it to be. When I was younger, I asked him how he tolerated some of the more vacuous individuals I had encountered around him. He argued that there were many kinds of intelligence, and we must be able appreciate all its forms.

Reflecting on that conversation now, along with my other experiences with him, I understand that he did not see kindness as a transaction, but a way of seeing and honoring humanity in others. In other words, he was not infected by the cynicism that often accompanies adulthood, where kindness becomes conditional, measured, or given only when there’s something to gain. Or where it is perceived as weakness, even though experience dictates that it takes far more strength to be kind than it does to be cruel.

Guds chach’s empathy wasn’t limited to family or close friends; he often extended it to strangers who soon became like an extension of family to him.

It was this empathy that contributed to the greatness of his craft. It gave him a profound ability to understand different perspectives, enriching everything he created. He approached his work not with an agenda, but with a willingness to listen, observe, and capture the complexities of human experience. This capacity to feel with others–to see beyond the surface–allowed him to imbue his work with authenticity and depth.

Guds chach’s empathy as an artist likens him to another Indian great who passed away too young, Amrita Shergil. Like Shergil, who felt that art reflected the very psyche of its people, Guds chach’s work mirrored India’s spirit during a transformative period. His rise as a designer unfolded during the economic liberalization of India, a time when the country was redefining its identity, reaching out to global influences while grappling with its own traditions.

In his work, Guds chach captured this duality of modern India–the rush of newfound aspirations and freedoms alongside a deep respect for cultural heritage. His designs carried forward the stories of his people, and his country, merging traditional motifs with contemporary forms, creating something distinctly and unabashedly Indian yet universal.

Amrita and Guds chach would likely be kindred spirits, bound by their love for India and its untapped artistic treasures. I imagine them now, wandering together through the afterlife, recounting visions of vibrant landscapes, people, and crafts, finding joy in every overlooked detail and marveling at the potential that still lies hidden in the folds of Indian art and design. They would be immersed in stories of ancient art forms, recalling how each region, each craft, carries its own heartbeat, a distinct rhythm shaped by centuries of tradition and adaptation.

They would also be excitedly discussing the diversity of India’s aesthetic wealth–and the wonders yet to be explored. And yes, perhaps they would also lament that too few set out on these artistic pilgrimages, that many are drawn instead of to more marketable, less rooted paths. They would see, perhaps, a growing trend toward homogenization and a narrowing of vision in the world of art and design, a hesitance to reach into the depths of India’s cultural reservoir.

Yet, I imagine them also feeling hopeful, for they would know that the well of India’s creativity is inexhaustible and that there will always be those who are ready to dive headlong into it, to carry the torch and revive what might be overlooked.

Guds chach was a visionary who carried the spirit of India in his heart and his work. Though his journey ended too soon, his legacy endures, woven into each garment he crafted and life he touched. In honoring his memory, we remember not just a talented designer but a person who saw beauty in every corner of life, whose spirit continues to invite us to look closer, feel deeper, and create with purpose.

(The writer is a director at a tech policy think tank)