“I've been here in Delhi for six months and I'm already shooting my first feature film. In Hollywood you have to wait tables for years before getting a break, and in Britain you get typecast into Asian-only roles. It's a really good time to be a British woman in Bollywood."

So says Sonal, a 29-year-old Londoner who is currently on location in India, shooting a Bengali remake of the 1997 Hollywood shocker I Know What You Did Last Summer. Before heading for the subcontinent in January, Sonal worked in recruitment and could speak neither Bengali nor Hindi. Yet three months after handing over £600 to enrol at the Asian Academy of Film and Television, she had shot her first film.

Sonal's experience is not unique. British women are flocking to Bollywood right now, desperate to be the next Aishwarya Rai. Despite the fact that few of them are fluent in Hindi or have an acting background, many producers and directors seem keen to cast them in leading roles, often over and above the thousands of Indian women who pour into Mumbai's Film City each month. Key players in the industry include UK-born actors Katrina Kaif, Sophiya Haque and Jiah Khan. And non-Asians have got in on the act too. Sophie Dahl has shot a crossover Indian/English film with Om Puri, and Alice Patten (daughter of British politician, Chris) was a lead in the Bafta-nominated Rang de Basanti .

Having grown up on a diet of Bollywood films, I know the seductive power they hold over women of Indian heritage. But just how easy is it for a British Asian woman to break into Bollywood? I made it my mission to find out and decided my best chance would be at the fourth annual International Indian Film Academy awards (IIFA) - the Bollywood Oscars - which were held in Yorkshire over a period of three days in June.

Before heading to the IIfas, I called Jessica Hines, author of the book Looking for the Big B: Bollywood, Bachchan and Me, for some insider advice. "Mostly," she says "you've got to get yourself noticed. Create an air of mystery - surround yourself with lots of people and don't talk too much."

Compulsory heels!
Acting up to the stereotype of the "good, quiet Indian girl" is apparently still the way forward, which will be a definite stretch for me. Hines also suggests that heels are compulsory and that I should be seen teetering on them at all times.

Day 1: While there is a definite love affair with Bollywood in the UK, the east-west divide isn't narrowing anywhere near as quickly as some might think. The average British person is more likely to be able to pick out a Wag - or even a pair of Wag's shoes - from a line-up than an Indian superstar.

What Britain's and India's entertainment cultures do have in common though, is the tendency to sell women as sex kittens. To fit my It-girl look, I turn up to the premiere in a black dress cut to the thigh. Within seconds, the paps are shouting my name. I tell a BBC reporter that I'm looking forward to the IIfas, and chat in vague terms about my "next big acting project", before an Indian TV reporter asks me what it feels like to be the best-dressed woman there.

Day two: I've made it into the Yorkshire Post as a Bollywood It girl, and various news channels - everywhere from Seattle to Saudi Arabia to India - have featured me in "that dress". On MSN, my photo is featured under the heading "Hot picture of the day. Who is she?" Some of the press have called me a Bollywood It girl, while others have described me as a Bollywood item girl. The label of item girl can be a double-edged sword. These are the women who turn up in films wearing scraps of sequinned material, before performing raunchy song-and-dance routines to titillate male audiences. Being an item girl for an influential choreographer like Farah Khan could land you a meatier role, but the flip side is being typecast as a "sex bomb" or falling off the radar because of the "nachnewali" tag.

Make nice dance?
Later in the day I am approached by a German director who asks if I'd like to appear in one of his movies as I'd "make nice dance". He gives me his card and invites me to Shilpa Shetty's birthday party later that evening in Leeds. Journalists aren't invited but I am in - I know it will be attended by actors, directors and producers of colossal standing in the business.

I arrive at Shilpa's bash in Leeds two hours late - perfect celebrity timing. There are gaggles of people cheering for me from behind the rails. I smile and shake hands with my fan club. "Are you Celina Jaitley?" asks one middle-aged woman who wants a picture of me on her mobile. Jaitley is another ex-Miss India-turned-actor, and very beautiful, so I'm hugely flattered - my swollen ego won't allow me to deny the claim. But then loud whispers of "Who is she?" turn to demands of "Who are you! Who are you!" and the illusion comes crashing down.

Day three: It is the awards ceremony day. I sneak backstage to see if I can pin down any of the stars/directors/producers/shoe-cleaners in a last-chance bid to make some Bollywood contacts. Bumping into Saif Ali Khan, who has just won the Best Actor in a Negative Role award (best villain), he mistakes me for a host from Sunrise Radio, one of the biggest Asian radio stations in the UK. "Ooh, no," I fawn, "I'm not from Sunrise!" "Oh, OK! Well at least you look like the sunrise anyway," he purrs. I'm completely charmed.

The awards finish at 1.30am, and my days as a Bollywood It girl are over. There's something empowering about the way the industry allows anyone to be their own Max Clifford, but you've got to be rhino-skinned and crazed with ambition to get ahead - even as a Brit girl. In the week since my Bollywood adventure, I've been wearing ballet pumps and talking, talking and talking - I much prefer flaunting my opinions than my body. Still, the bug hasn't left me completely. You know where to send those film scripts.