August 14, 2024
By Bishu Chattopadhyay
It was late February, around 5 pm when I, carrying my double bass, boarded a busy downtown bound Q train from Times Square. No sooner had I entered the car than I noticed two other men, unrelated, standing near each other also with double basses whom I had never met before. An extraordinarily improbable encounter – three strangers standing with their 6-foot tall instruments in one car. One was formally dressed, as if on his way to a classy event, the second person was wearing street clothes, returning perhaps from an afternoon rehearsal or busking, and I was dressed casually for a restaurant gig. Three pairs of eyes met, with welcoming smiles all around, silently acknowledging our mutual challenge of lugging this oversized instrument. As the train began to move the street clad bassist started to scat sing something, right away my voice joined in, and the suited musician began snapping his fingers. Now we were an improvising trio. No doubt some of the riders on the train were wondering if all this was a set up. It was as if we three strangers had known and understood one another going way back in time. Alas I had to get off three short stops later. And a magical moment, as brief as it was beautiful, was over. As I hauled my bulky musical companion up the stairs into the cold winter night I couldn’t help but wonder if the three of us might meet again and next time “on the A train.”