Vrindavan, India - 5 am

Pealing bells and blast of horns fill the dark sky. In the Prabhupada Samadhi Mandir, we sit on bamboo mats on cold marble, eyes closed, legs folded. The echoic chamber is filled with a constant drone and hum, indiscernible from anything else -- chanting humming constant drone hare ram ram ram hare krsna krsna ram hare ram ram ram. In the main temple, monks sing even in the pre-dawn dark -- clapping crashing drumming chanting, dancing, singing, arms raised, blowing horns and crashing cymbals, creating joyous din. We sit still and watch our breath, and still the chant drones on hare rama hare rama rama rama hare hare. The voice hums and echoes, becoming non-different from silence, non-different from the marble walls of the temple. Still the devotees sing and dance in blissful circles, as the stars sparkle in the silent sky, and if you listen softly to the noise, you can hear God.