Why at one Delhi guesthouse it's all about food glorious food...

Colonel's Retreat rooftop breakfasts are "an experience" happy campers say. Akhouri masala scrambled egg (left) comes with unlimited servings of mini dosas, iddli and banana bread. Owner Arun Khanna (right) has a simple working philosophy: "We don't stint." / Photos: Vijay Verghese

THE pilot announced our descent into New Delhi and we looked out of the windows expectantly. Normally dusty Delhi was all white. Not the normal dandruff on the collar White Christmas. Nothing was visible. Next moment we had landed and were taxiing through the milky murk. A few days earlier in November, Air Quality Index readings here had crossed 1,000, well past  a hazardous 300. On the world air quality index scale this compared with roughly 50 (good) for London, 60 (moderate) for Singapore, 115 (moderately unhealthy) for Hong Kong, and a remarkable 20 for Tokyo.

After a bracing walk through the leafy residential neighbourhood of Defence Colony dodging street sweepers and their plumes of dust, it is up to the flowers abloom rooftop breakfast at Colonel’s Retreat that has become the high point of any trip as savoury treats — from the ‘akhouri’ masala eggs to banana bread, fruit, steamed rice iddlis, dosas and vadas — start arriving, paired with parathas (stuffed Indian flatbread), and toast with dollops of Amul butter.

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I chat with schoolfriend and collegemate Arun Khanna about our early days in Delhi. "It was always heavy fog," he recalls. "It never stopped us." We chuckle. Arun is passionate about his morning tennis. It burns off his excess energy, like a gas flare above an oil well. There was no AQI in those early days or if there was we were not made aware of it. In winter, mysterious blanketed figures wandered about, huddling around smoky fires.

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As children we finished all the food on our plates. We made our beds. At school, kids whose attention strayed got a smack on the head with a heavy book and not an indulgent afternoon with a prescription-scribbling psychologist. There was no ADHD back then. And the country produced a crop of entrepreneurs and leaders that head global technology and financial businesses today.  

{“We don’t nickel and dime and sweat the small stuff,” he says emphatically. “You want more banana bread? Sure. Take some more...”

AQI notwithstanding, thoughtful host Arun and his charming wife Suman have developed their family guesthouse business with a warm and welcoming personal touch that made Arun’s father — the eponymous Colonel ‘Nandi’ — proud, as he steamed towards his 100th birthday, a magnificent century knock for this veteran cricketer and his cricket-mad family. Colonel AK (Nandi) Khanna passed away 6 January 2025 and is much missed.

Suman Khanna (left) brings fine attention to detail — like multilingual menus or helping out flummoxed guests — while Arun (right) deals with the other nitty gritty. They look after their staff well and, unsurprisingly, many of them have stayed on in service for years. / Photos: Vijay Verghese

The Colonel’s wife Meena is responsible for the delicious family recipes best savoured in the dinner tasting menu that covers everything from biryani, tandoori, butter chicken and kebabs to Goan fish curry and the richly spiced but delicate Anglo-Indian chicken ‘ishtoo’ that caresses the palate. She was a fast bowler too in her youth, earning the nickname ‘Demon Mena’.

Arun and Suman remain immersed in various ventures that include popular Rajasthani jewellery store Amrapali. The working style? “Suman and I separate our areas. This makes for less conflict,” Arun says. It is a matter of fact statement. There is no irony or hint of humour here, just business pragmatism. “Suman is incredible with documentation and operations.” Attentive and unflappable, Suman certainly comes across as a walking Who’s Who of Delhi, never forgetting a name. This comes in handy when helping guests with itineraries or troubleshooting.

A thought crosses her mind and she smiles. “One guest from the UK arrived with just a photo of himself at the age of seven,” Suman recalls. “He was standing in front of a house and he had the name of a road in Delhi. That was all.” Clearly the guest wished to be reconnected to his family roots but the evidence was slim. She got to work and started piecing together the puzzle. “I checked around and found the road had been renamed. It was in the Cantonment. Unfortunately foreigners are not allowed in the Cantonment [a military area].” She spoke with some friends who “arranged a ‘home’ visit for our guest with one condition — no photos. We don’t treat our guests as work. We enjoy looking after them and helping out.”

Arun is a believer in sustainability but without miserliness on service. “No food must be re-served the next day,” he says emphatically. “Nothing goes back in the fridge. They [the staff] need to consume anything left over. It goes from here [points to the table] straight to here [points to his waist and laughs].” But he is entirely earnest.

In the hospitality field where hopping ship is legendary, the faces here always seem familiar. “We look after our staff, “ Arun explains. “Almost none leave but we support their career choices. Several of them come from the same village in Kumaon. We loan them money for building homes in the hills or doing improvements and take care of them.” The smiles say it all. One blushing server recounts his experience trying out for the police service. He just missed the time on a distance run and shakes his head. Others pat him on the back and laughingly suggest he lose weight.

The secret to Colonel’s smooth running and growing international following? “We maintain a presence and step in from time to time,” says Arun. “We don’t sit in an office. Every breakfast Suman and I are here to interact with guests.” It does the trick.

Colonel's Retreat offers plenty of elbow room with a common living and dining area on each floow with fine detailing, tasteful art and in-room fixtures, and excellent dinner tasting menus using old family recipes. This is one reason so many guests choose to dine in, somewhat unusual for a foodie destination. / Photos: Vijay Verghese

Colonel’s Retreat (there are two of them, the original at D418, and a few newer rooms are available down the leafy street) offers simple stays with friendly service but with thoughtful high end touches — fluffy cotton towels, detailed handmade toiletries, hair dryers, marbled bathrooms with rain showers, deep wardrobes with nice detailing and ample hangers, a safe, a working desk, small TV (with local programmes), reading lamps. comfy beds, and pillow menus. Rooms are spaced out and each floor features a comfortable common living area adorned with large oil canvases, books, moody photographs, and a balcony facing dining table. It is a homey ambience that instantly lowers stress.

Arun stretches his arms and loosens his shoulders to work off the post tennis knots as he scans the breakfast crowd in case anyone needs assistance. He and Suman have already spent time welcoming guests at each table. We can see blue sky today and the 12C chill is fast dissipating. “We don’t nickel and dime,” he says emphatically. “You want more banana bread? Take some more.” Some international luxury hotels could take a leaf from Arun's simple playbook as their handmade butter from the Netherlands disappears and breakfast portions grow ever more lean.

He turns to me, “See… towels cost a small amount, not too much, and last say about a hundred washes before they lose their fluffiness and become a bit stiff. So after a hundred washes we replace them. It works out to a tiny amount per use. It costs almost nothing. Why stint on this [shrugs and gestures with hands]?”

The guesthouse keeps working on small improvements to its eco-footprint. “Take the hot water,” Arun points towards a mid-size cistern mounted on the roof not far from where we are sitting. “We use a system that draws in ambient heat from the air to start the process. It’s a slow build up and supplements the electricity… like a hybrid car. This is centralised and we do not have individual geysers that can be wasteful of energy.” A sequence of pumps ensures the water flows constantly to all the rooms at the right pressure.

“We had a guesthouse in the 1970s in Nizamuddin,” he reminiscences. [This is where the family home is]. “I was playing cricket and reading economics at college and helping at the guesthouse. I went into this business with the intention of expanding… I wish I had come in earlier and scaled things up. But now I realise this is a very personal business and I would have to clone myself.” It is this personalisation that returning guests savour.

The rooftop breakfast at D418 is legendary and it is often the subject of conversation. Over dinner, one Montreal blogger recounting high points of his trip, beams: “The breakfast here is an experience.” He eyes my son who has burrowed into the shadows, “Don’t miss it.” My son grins and nods appreciatively, looking up from his butter chicken. It is excellent advice.

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