When you plan a road trip, the first thing you do - other than arriving at a unanimous decision on the destination - is plan the route. And for that you need a map.

Not knowing where to find a map of West Bengal's motorable roads, I did what most of us do - turned to Google. And I was pleasantly surprised when Google maps threw up three different routes for me, complete with distance, time and volume of traffic.

I decided on one that promised a breezier ride than the other two and made a thorough study of it. It looked like a scenic route to Gorumara Forest in North Bengal; at least the last bit that ran parallel to a canal, the Mahananda river, the Teesta and another canal - the last, flowing through a tea garden.

While I was charting the route I realised I wouldn't be the one driving. Suddenly I was overcome with a wave of apprehension - would the two men taking turns to drive put as much faith in Google?

The day was finally upon us. And there I was, armed with the names of all the roads we were to take, and the husband in the navigator's seat with the GPS of his mobile switched on.

Despite Google's implorings to "make a U-turn" and take the Grand Trunk Road, we stuck to the Durgapur Expressway. The husky female navigation voice shut up after a while.

"You really should not depend on Google," said Saunak, the friend who was driving. "It has confidently directed me into blind lanes." The husband now switched off the GPS. I continued to shout directions from the backseat in between covert peeks at Google Maps when bewildered by all the crossroads in Burdwan town.

Once we hit Badshahi Road, a double-lane state highway as smooth as silk, it was easy going. The signboards were unusually clear about which way we should head. That was good, as there was no Internet connection on my phone.

We made it as far as Farakka - across the barrage and into a dhaba for late lunch - before Saunak realised he had driven 290 kilometres banking on Google alone. "We would have made it to Malda [which is still a good hour away] by now if we had taken NH 34," he started to crib. And then added magnanimously, "But the drive wouldn't have been as pleasant."

Soon we were inching along NH 34 towards Raigunj, where we were supposed to halt for the night. A line of lorries snaked down the highway as far as the eye could see. We were on the outskirts of Malda, still an hour away from Raigunj. A little judicious off-road driving got us to the turn leading into Malda town, the same that Saunak took as advised by Google.

Soon he was driving down Malda's roads, in and out of narrow winding lanes. "Two hundred metres down turn left into unknown road," said the sexy voice again, and we obeyed.

After about 40 minutes of driving - down lanes that locals most likely take to avoid the main roads crowded with vehicles and holy cows - Google got us back on the main road right in front of the toll booth and ahead of the snaking line of lorries. Saunak exchanged seats with his navigator. His nerves were shot to pieces by the stress of constantly wondering whether Google was leading him astray, he confessed with suitable dramatics.

A half-hour later, we were on the outskirts of Raiganj and stopped to ask the way to the tourist lodge.

"Why don't you ask Google Didi," piped the youngest member of the team, my seven-year-old daughter. Google Didi was summoned. She had been resting awhile as she tends to gobble battery charge every time she makes an appearance.

This time, she led us right up to the gate of the lodge; informed us conscientiously, when we were stuck behind some lorries again, that the jam would delay us by seven minutes at worst.

As we left the dining room after a chicken and roti dinner - which would be repeated willy-nilly at every stop till we reached Calcutta six days later, following which the bird was banned from the table for the next fortnight - Saunak reminded us to charge our phones. He said, "The waiter just told me there is always a bottleneck between Kishangunj and Islampur on NH 34. We will need Google Didi to guide us through unknown roads again."

No sheepish look, no downcast eyes, like he was never not a believer.