Ever since Badshah’s ‘Mercy’ song came out, almost every guy became a regular at the club in hopes of finding that “sabse alag” girl. So, it would be a no-brainer to guess where one can find me in the evenings. Well, let’s face it, only cool rappers like Badshah can tell us where to find our dream girl (please don’t confuse it with Hema Malini, because that would be wrong on so many levels).

Anyways, unlike Badshah and probably every other guy on this planet, the problem with me is that my stars are permanently doomed. And not just for one particular reason. First of all, for better or worse, I found one sabse alag girl, every evening. It was like every evening I had a different idea of my dream girl. However, to my utter dismay, every one of those girls did not just find me ordinary, but also a creep. I mean I know my way of showing interest is weird, but Badshah didn’t exactly hand us any manual for this.

Nevertheless, one of such evenings, I thought I had ultimately found my sabse alag girl and just for a little while, assumed that my stars were finally shining. Little did I know that my doomed stars had decided to humiliate further that evening.

There I was sitting with my friends at the bar, waiting for our next round of drinks, when a friend of mine pointed to me to look at 10 o’clock where a group of girls were looking in our directions and laughing. It’s not that I didn’t notice them earlier, but I knew that those girls were way beyond our league. Especially mine, who couldn’t form a single proper sentence while talking to a girl, let alone try to impress her.

But that night I gathered courage, or rather vodka courage, and along with my friends approached those girls. I was more confident of the fact that since I was with friends, I would have to do much talking. Nodding, smiling and occasionally yes and no would work. Almost all of us had selected one girl for ourselves to impress.

And, like I said doomed stars, the girl that was with me turned out to be the silent-listening types. While she tried to start several conversations, I was unable to form more than one line answers to her questions. Peeking around I saw that almost all everyone except us was having fun.

Just then, the song of the hour was played, yes you guessed it right, it was “Mercy”. And finally, I said to hell with it. And turned around to ask the girl if she would like to dance, only to see her walking to the dance floor with some random guy. If that humiliation was not enough, I saw that all our friends were joking and laughing at me.

After that, I quietly went back to the bar and drank for next hour alone. Finally, what felt like an eternity my friends returned, clapping each other’s shoulders and boasting how they got their girl’s number or a day and time for the second date. As if the quota of my humiliation that night was not enough, they all started consoling me and telling me how they would help me score next time.

So, that day I decided that there was no real “Mercy” for an unfortunate soul like me.

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