A Turnaround Written in Spin
Not long after chasing 377 with an air of ease against Pakistan, Sri Lanka returned to an older, more familiar script—transforming a modest target into a mountain. On the fourth day at Galle, the script was executed to perfection. India, beginning with nine wickets in hand and needing just 153 to win, were undone by the relentless guile of Rangana Herath and the youthful vigour of Tharindu Kaushal.
The 192-run first-innings deficit was not just overturned—it was alchemised into victory. Excluding forfeitures, this was the eighth-highest deficit ever turned into a Test win, and it came with a distinctly Sri Lankan flavour: runs in the bank, clever in-and-out fields, and spinners unerringly landing the ball on a postage stamp.
The Fortress Breathes
Galle International Stadium—open, breezy, flanked by fort walls and an indifferent sea—felt claustrophobic for India on that final day. Twenty-four hours earlier, they were near-certain victors. But a sequence of events, starting with Dinesh Chandimal’s counterattack and India’s stubborn resistance to the DRS, had reversed the emotional momentum. By the fourth morning, a sense of inevitability hung in the air: Sri Lanka would make them toil for every run.
Instead of grafting, India collapsed—recording their lowest total against Sri Lanka.
The Old Master’s Spell
Herath, omitted from the previous match and anonymous in the first innings, summoned a spell of rare vintage. Fighting sore knees and a complaining back, he bowled as though the years had reversed. In an 18-over marathon, interrupted only by lunch, he conceded just 35 runs and took six wickets.
Each dismissal was a study in variation:
Ishant Sharma—lbw to one that might have struck outside the line.
Rohit Sharma—bowled, stranded beside the ball’s turning arc.
Wriddhiman Saha—lured down the track, beaten by flight and dip.
Harbhajan Singh—caught pad-bat, the ball kissing both surfaces.
R Ashwin—holing out in a desperate counterattack.
Ajinkya Rahane—edged to slip, the last bastion breached.
Herath’s bowling was not about unplayable deliveries alone—it was about suffocating pressure. Every over was a net closing in.
The Supporting Cast
Dhammika Prasad and Nuwan Pradeep, though wicketless in that decisive phase, softened India’s resistance. They probed relentlessly outside off, especially against Shikhar Dhawan, who—batting with a bruised hand—adopted discipline over adventure. Yet this discipline turned to stagnation, and stagnation to errors.
Kohli’s dismissal, prodding far in front of his body, epitomised the batting lapse. Dhawan’s own end came via a soft leading edge after an ill-conceived sweep change. From 45 for 4, the slope steepened rapidly.
Chandimal’s Day of Anarchy
If Herath’s spell was a symphony of control, Chandimal’s innings the day prior was pure chaos jazz. Arriving when Sri Lanka teetered, he lashed sweeps and reverse-sweeps against the turn, struck Ashwin past cover, and clobbered Harbhajan for six. He made 51 of the last 65 runs scored by Sri Lanka, all while Galle’s backdrop played its own percussion: election rally speeches, sea winds, bus horns, and kite-flying children.
It was cricket as street theatre—noise, unpredictability, and audacity.
Herath’s Redemption Arc
For eighteen months, whispers had grown: Is Herath done? Figures like 1/99 and 1/154 fed the narrative. But this was a man forged in resilience—summoned back into the Test side after playing club cricket in England, often overlooked for flashier, mystery spinners.
His victory was as personal as it was national. This was the Herath who, in 2011 Durban, willed Sri Lanka to victory; the Herath whose craft lived in the subtleties, whose career was a testament to squeezing every ounce from modest natural gifts.
“Being dropped is my bread and butter,” he quipped afterwards, smiling as if adversity were just another opponent to outlast.
An Ending with Memory
When the final wicket fell, it was not just India’s chase that had ended, but a narrative that had threatened to define Herath’s twilight years. In Galle, he reminded cricket that greatness can be quiet, and redemption can be slow-burning—but when it arrives, it can suffocate as thoroughly as a perfect spell of left-arm spin.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
