Mohammed Siraj, the Oval invincible

India had begun their lap of honour around The Oval without their man of the moment.

Three-fourths of the ground had stood to applaud a famous win. But Mohammed Siraj was still finishing up with his interviews, beaming his smile through questions, when all he wanted was to be among his people.

When he finally broke free, he sprinted across the turf to catch up. And the first person he sought out wasn't the captain, or the coach, or the cameras. It was Prasidh Krishna. They say fast bowlers often move in pairs. Siraj didn't just join him. He leapt into his arms. It was a spontaneous, joyous hug at the end of a historic Test win. But what made it even more poignant was where it happened, that very part of the ground near the Vauxhall End where the two had shared a quieter, more private embrace just a day earlier.

Lunch had just been called on Day 4. And Siraj, instead of turning toward the dressing room, began walking in the other direction where Prasidh had been fielding. He could've waited for Prasidh to join him. When he got there, he put an arm around his partner and then patted his head. It was an apology. For the mis-step that had cost India Harry Brook's wicket. And possibly the match. Possibly the series.

That was the story of the Anderson-Tendular Trophy, encapsulated in two Siraj vignettes. Because if this series that finished 2-2 was a roller-coaster, then Siraj was the guy in the front seat: wind in his face, hands off the rail, riding every twist, turn, plunge and peak. Even on Day 25, after 181 overs, he wasn't done with the ride. He woke up at 6 a.m., two hours earlier than he had on any match day across the last six weeks. On his phone, he searched for an image of Cristiano Ronaldo, one with "Believe" emblazoned across it, and set it as his wallpaper.

All series long, Siraj had been bounding in. On hot days and flat tracks, through cramps and collapses. He was the only fast-bowling survivor across all five Tests, still running. Still believing. Even when England were only 35 runs away from clinching the series.

On the last day, he was running even before the first ball was bowled. India had just finished their morning huddle, one of those long, shoulder-gripping kinds meant to lock in the final hour of a long tour. As it broke, Siraj peeled away first, eager and restless. Only, in his urgency, he tripped over a BCCI staffer who was filming the moment. It would be the only misstep he'd make for the next 56 minutes.

It was plain obvious that Gill would have him continue from where he'd left off the previous evening under similar cloud cover. Siraj's 42nd - and final - spell of the series had started before Tea on Day 4 and was now spilling into a third session. On the final morning, it resumed after England had knocked off eight more runs before he got the ball in hand. He began by curling a 77-over-old ball away from the right-handed Jamie Smith. He stuck to that channel once more. Then, on the third, Smith shuffled across to cover the angle, perhaps to get outside the line of the wobble-seam nip-backer, or to smother the swing. He managed neither. He nicked off.

The first wobble-seam ball actually went to Gus Atkinson, who somehow survived. But Jamie Overton didn't. And when all the conventional wicket plans had gone out the window against Atkinson, who was farming the strike with an injured Chris Woakes and looking to hit big, Siraj switched to white-ball mode. His 1122nd delivery (including extras) of the series was a 143kph full ball that dipped late and snuck under Atkinson's bat swing to knock out the off-stump and end the series.

There was a beautiful symmetry in that number - 1122 - just like the final scoreline of this series: 2-2. A perfect reflection of Siraj's own arc over these six weeks. Because to understand the significance of how it ended, you had to see where it began.

If his final spell was 12.1 overs long, his first lasted only three. At Headingley, four boundaries were hit in his first two overs of the series, and Gill took him off the attack. He looked strangely out of rhythm, short of conviction. Running up the slope from the Football Stand End can swallow you whole, and it nearly did, as he struggled with his spikes and his landing. He came back better in the second innings, beating the bat often, but India failed to defend 371, and the post-match chorus rang loud: Bumrah has no support.

Cut to Edgbaston, where there was no Bumrah. Siraj stepped up instantly, taking a six-fer in the first innings. But even there, the contradictions returned. In the second innings, he dropped a straightforward catch that should have ended the game, just minutes after flinging himself full-stretch to pull off a stunner for Jadeja.

It was with Jadeja again that he tried to win the Lord's Test, in a thrilling last-wicket stand on the final evening. But one ball he middled rolled back onto his stumps. A freak dismissal, but one he later admitted haunted him for days. Even before that, that midpoint of the series had already become a vortex of emotions. He had been fined for celebrating in Ben Duckett's face. But just before that, he spoke movingly about life's uncertainty, paying tribute to the late Liverpool footballer Diogo Jota.

Inside and outside, Siraj was constantly living the series. Every high. Every low.

Then came Manchester. His body was beginning to fray. Still, he drew inspiration from watching Ben Stokes, the way the England captain kept charging in despite everything. Siraj bowled 30 overs for just one wicket. And by the end of that one innings at Old Trafford, he was cramping and hobbling. The Oval Test was two days away and Bumrah was unlikely to play a part in India's search for the equaliser. Morne Morkel even went up to check in on Siraj. "I'm playing," came the response that would become a milestone moment.

In many ways, this has always been the story of Siraj's Test career. He made his debut at the MCG in the aftermath of 36 all out, when India were bruised, understrength, and away from home. He asked Ajinkya Rahane why he hadn't bowled in the first session of that match. It wasn't petulance. It was hunger.

Three weeks later, at the Gabba, he was leading an attack featuring Navdeep Saini and T. Natarajan in just his third Test. And he took a five-fer to script one of India's greatest ever wins, at a ground where no visiting team had triumphed in 32 years. Since that debut, he has taken 51 wickets at an average of 18.92 in nine Test wins in SENA. He has made himself available - in body, in spirit, in fight, and in skill.

Last year, after India won the T20 World Cup, he'd said with endearing honesty: "I'm believe only on Jassi bhai." That belief was real. But somewhere along the way, across 1122 balls, five Tests, and every twist in this ride, there was a subtle tweak. Now, he says he believes in himself.

More importantly, India know too that when things get tough, they can count on Siraj. The kind of bowler who'll stay on the ride. The kind who puts heart before hesitation. The kind who runs in, no matter what - wind in his face, hands off the rail.