The war cry was borne out of triumph, fury, relief and indignation. It was a much-maligned young man letting out steam, pent-up emotions of two trying months released. There is no gainsaying what Harbhajan Singh might have done if his team-mates hadn't engulfed him in an intense huddle at the Gabba on Tuesday night, immediately after he trapped one of two principal tormentors — Andrew Symonds — palpably in front. It wouldn't have been pretty, that's for sure!

When the years roll by and Harbhajan is finally able to look back on the events of this Australian summer without getting worked up, he will realise that this tour went a long way towards furthering his education as an international cricketer. It is debatable if any individual, Muttiah Muralitharan included, has had to endure the ordeal Harbhajan was systematically subjected to by the collective might of the Australian cricket team, the so-called sporting Australian public, and the completely prejudiced Australian media.

A lesser man would have broken down, reduced to a nervous wreck in the face of the concerted hate campaign. Newspapers were full of concocted stories about the 'perennial bad boy of international cricket,' and each time the off-spinner stepped on the field, boos rang around every hosting venue that succeeded the New Year's Day Test in Sydney. Australian players called him names, and Matthew Hayden was foolhardy enough to refer to him as an obnoxious little weed, perhaps smug in the knowledge that he wouldn't face the penalty such puerile name-calling deserved.

How Harbhajan managed to remain outwardly unaffected by all this, and yet continue to perform with aplomb, only the 27-year-old will know. To the Aussies, he was the sinner, but Harbhajan and the rest of the Indian team were convinced he was more sinned against. Inwardly, he was seething and outraged, but given the scrutiny every move and every action of his was under, Harbhajan managed to keep his emotions in check, and hurt Australia where it mattered most — with ball in hand.

Tempting as it is to call it a show of character, that cliche will not do justice to the grace and equanimity Harbhajan showed under supreme provocation and severe stress. He was fortunate to have the wisdom of Sachin Tendulkar to fall back on. The little master and the Turbanator have forged a strong bond over the years, and when his good friend needed him the most, Tendulkar reached out with typical empathy, almost playing the mentor's role all over again to a man who is on the verge of completing a decade in international cricket.

Lone battle

For all the support, though, this was a battle Harbhajan had to fight largely on his own. At the best of times, Harbhajan is a mischievous, impish, fun-loving character; he is a great competitor, doesn't take a backward step and is perfectly capable of looking at the mightiest — physically — squarely in the eye. Much like his Test captain Anil Kumble, but without the same finesse, Harbhajan is an out and out quick bowler in a spinner's guise. Therefore, minus the polish of the Bangalorean, he can come across as brash and irascible, and especially to those already trying to identify those traits in him.

There are many cricketers around the world capable of getting under the skin of the opposition. Much like South African Andre Nel and Pakistani Shahid Afridi, Harbhajan belongs to that category. When he is bowling well, Harbhajan is quick with a laugh and a joke, but when things aren't going his way, he can at once be petulant and frustrated. That is but human tendency; to castigate him for wearing his heart on his sleeve, as the Aussies have done all summer long, shows a distinct lack of maturity, and especially from a people who are willing to lump similar behaviour from their own heroes.

Racial slur

The racial slur sought to be eternally tagged to Harbhajan by Symonds, and endorsed by match referee Mike Procter, was justifiably — and thankfully — erased from the record books by Justice John Hansen, though the Jalandhar man is yet to put the trauma of those three weeks between Procter's shocking pronouncement of 'guilty' and Hansen's acquittal behind him. From the moment Hansen threw out the three-Test ban slapped by Procter, it was all-out war, Harbhajan under serious fire from Symonds and Hayden, as well as from the leadership group of Ricky Ponting and his heir apparent, Michael Clarke.

It was mental disintegration at its vindictive, emotion-driven best, with generous — and unrequisitioned — support from a media that, had it focussed at least as much on the cricket, would have realised that it was failing in its primary obligation to its consumers. To Harbhajan's great credit, he stoically took every blow standing up, though the chin was largely spared because most of the blows were low and below the belt. He couldn't express his immense frustration by rattling batsmen with express pace, but he could kill them softly with his craft and guile, and that's precisely what he proceeded to do. Amazingly, the more flak he copped, the better Harbhajan bowled during the triangular series. The simmering anger always threatened to burst to the fore and send him on a self-destructive path, but miraculously, the man with a short fuse side-stepped the pitfalls of verbal or physical expression. Every time Mahendra Singh Dhoni tossed him the ball, there was a twinkle in his eye, almost a song in his heart. He had his opportunity for revenge, and boy, did he take that!

No three wickets will ever have given Harbhajan greater satisfaction and a sense of fulfilment than those of Symonds, twice, and Hayden in the two finals. In Sydney last Sunday, the two bullies were reconstructing a sagging effort to set a target with a century stand when their egos got the better of them as both lost out in the battle of one-upmanship; on Tuesday, the two Queenslanders showed they aren't quick learners, both again embarrassed by Harbhajan on their own home patch. Harbhajan knocked the bails over to complete the run out that terminated Hayden's stint, and another retrieving association. Two deliveries later came the crowning glory — Symonds beaten by flight and turn, and very very out.

It was difficult to see, then, whether the bowler was more elated or the batsman more infuriated. The battle of Gabba had been won and lost. There was poetic justice in Harbhajan winkling out his two greatest taunters, even if the offie was prevented from showing his boast by well-meaning team-mates. In their heart of hearts, all of Australia will acknowledge that they did the wrong thing by Harbhajan; they will also wake up to the fact that he who laughs last laughs best. And no prizes for guessing who laughed last!