We briefed the neta as the purest modern descendant of Kalighat's favourite target — the garland-greedy big-man, swollen with his own importance. He towers up the left of the sheet, an enormous boneless belly under a white kurta, a brick-red shawl over one shoulder and orange-and-white marigold garlands heaped to his chin, one finger jabbed skyward in the eternal pose of the speech that promises everything. Below him crouch two followers, smaller in every sense — one with palms pressed in worship, the other leaning in to catch the wisdom — so the whole picture is a diagonal of inflation running down into flattery. We kept the politician in plain white so the marigolds read as the medals of office they are, and refused any flag, party symbol, or banner because the satire is the man himself: the bulk, the garlands and the pointing finger. The patuas would have recognised him instantly.