床に座ると、お父さんは無造作に小さな鉈で木を削りはじめる。

みるみるうちに鳥の形があらわれ、やすりをかけて形を整えると、絵付けはお母さんの出番。

慣れた手つきで、焼きごてで模様を描いてゆく。

聞くとこの鳥を作り始めたのは彼らのおじいさん、たまに親戚が手伝ってくれるけど、普段は2人で作っているそうだ。勝手にもう少し大きな工房を想像していたのだが、寝室兼リビングの六畳ほどの部屋が彼らの工房だ。ベッドの上に腰かけさせてもらい、準備してくれたチャイとお菓子をたべながら、彼らの作業を見守る。

昨年の夏、2人目のお子さんが産まれたとか。帝王切開だったそうだ。

そんなわけでしばらく制作が、しばらくゆっくりだったけど、久しぶりに彼らから鳥が届いた。

なんとなく呑気な表情がたまらなく好きだ。

https://chahat.thebase.in/search?q=bird

Sitting on the floor, Dad casually begins whittling the wood with a small hatchet.

Before my eyes, the shape of a bird takes form; after sanding it down to refine the contours, it’s Mom’s turn to paint it.

With practiced ease, she uses a branding iron to draw the patterns.

I learn that their grandfather was the one who started making these birds; though relatives occasionally lend a hand, they usually make them just the two of them. I had foolishly imagined a larger workshop, but their workshop is actually a room about 10 square meters—a combined bedroom and living room. I sat down on the bed, sipped the chai they’d prepared, and ate some sweets while watching them work.

I heard their second child was born last summer. Apparently, it was a C-section.

Because of that, their production slowed down for a while, but I recently received a bird from them for the first time in a long time.

I just can’t get enough of its somehow carefree expression.