Rahul P.
Google
I've been to my share of Sunday brunches. The five-star hotel variety with their live pasta stations and flowing champagne. The fashionable farm-to-table establishments where the menu reads like a thesis on sustainability. But Zorba operates on an entirely different frequency.
The luxury here isn't about imported cheeses or truffle oil (though the food, as we'll get to, is genuinely superb). It's about space. Real space. The kind where you can hear peacocks calling instead of traffic horns, where ponds and waterfalls provide the soundtrack rather than electronic music, where the architecture consists of mud-eco houses that seem to have grown organically from the earth itself.
Walking through the grounds before brunch, I found myself doing something I rarely do in Delhi—breathing deeply. Not the shallow, defensive breathing we've adapted to polluted air, but actual, lung-filling breaths. The winter sunlight filtered through the trees in that perfect late-morning way, and I understood why they'd chosen to host their gatherings on weekends. This is when the light does its best work.
The Buffet as Meditation
Brunch begins at half past twelve, and there's something quietly radical about the menu. It's entirely vegetarian, predominantly organic, and somehow manages to span both Indian regional cuisines and global flavours without feeling scattered or trying too hard.
The spread reminded me of the better ashram kitchens I've visited over the years. But this had none of that institutional quality. Each dish seemed to have been given individual attention. The dal wasn't just dal; it was a meditation on what dal could be. The seasonal vegetable preparations showcased produce at its peak, cooked just enough to bring out flavour without crushing the life out of it.
And then there were the international elements—pastas, bakes, the occasional Asian-inspired dish—all executed with the same philosophy. No heavy creams, no butter-laden sauces, but somehow deeply satisfying. This is food that understands the difference between indulgence and excess.
The Company You Keep
What struck me most, perhaps, was the crowd. And I use that word loosely because there was nothing crowd-like about it. These were people who'd made a deliberate choice to spend their Sunday here rather than at the usual brunching spots. Some were clearly regulars, greeting the staff like old friends. Others, like me, were first-timers, but everyone seemed to share a certain openness, a willingness to be present.
Live music played—not at conversation-killing volume but as a gentle accompaniment. Musicians who understood that their role was to enhance the atmosphere, not dominate it. Between courses, people didn't scroll through their phones. They talked. They listened. They watched the ducks paddle across the pond.
Beyond the Meal
The experience can continue if you're inclined even after the brunch. Pottery sessions for those who want to work with their hands. Tarot readings for the curious. On Saturdays, there's something called Osho Kundalini Meditation. On Sundays, Drum Dance & Masti, which sounds either wonderful or terrifying depending on your comfort with spontaneous expression.
These aren't included in the brunch price, but their very existence tells you something important about Zorba's vision. This isn't just about feeding people well, though they certainly do that. It's about creating a space where different forms of nourishment—physical, creative, spiritual—can coexist.
The Verdict
I left Zorba feeling the way one should feel after a good meal: satisfied but not stuffed, energised rather than lethargic, grateful for the experience. The drive back to Gurugram felt longer than the drive out, as if I were leaving one world and reluctantly returning to another.
