"Do we have enough knowledge of Indian traditions to pass on to our children?" Rishi Mehta, 18 student and actor from New Jersey

Her daughter may or may not take her advice, but Patel in many ways represents the complex cultural landscape charted by Indian Americans in the 21st century. The central element of this phenomenal transformation of the community from the 1960s and '70s is the second- and third-generation of Indian Americans. Chasing new dreams, they are increasingly challenging the stereotype "American-Born Confused Desi".

"Being born and raised in Britain, one would say there is little distinction between Mr Singh and Mr Smith." Sody Kahlon, 29 Funjabis comedy group

In Britain too, the new generation is rediscovering itself. Though their families root them in Indian traditions, the youngsters are sifting what they want from them and branching out. So while they've rejected Asian chauvinism, religious segregation and caste values, they wear a sari with as much ease as they do a business suit or a bikini. Things like mehndi, Bollywood flicks and Indian fashions are a rage in their age group and, suddenly, it's cool to be Asian in Britain. Generation Next on both sides of the Atlantic has finally come of age.

As the younger Indians embrace the lifestyle of the countries that are now their homes, however, there is a casualty and that is the "model-minority" image. The progeny of some of the most high-profile members of the Indian community in America is throwing up several professional surprises as they forsake the beaten tracks of pursuing engineering or a medical degree. They are also coming out of the closet to experiment and to express their sexuality-a growing number of South Asians now openly declare their gay/ lesbian preferences. Added to this is the chance to socialise with-and imbibe new trends from-youth from back home as fresh loan procedures encourage an increasing number of middle-class students from India to pursue undergraduate courses in private American colleges.

"I was different from other children I grew up with but was encouraged to feel proud of it." Priya Akhoury, 26 publicist in a PR firm, New York

For many, abandoning the model minority tag must have come as a relief as it accords them the freedom to respond more spontaneously to situations and not internalise their experiences. Mamta Motwani, assistant director at the Multicultural Information Center in Austin, Texas, relates her growing-up experience when as an eight-year-old she was targeted as a "Gandhi lover" by hostile classmates. "All I know is that at eight it really hurt. It especially pained because I had no voice," she says, adding, "Good Indian kids are quiet, right?" At 27, Motwani has put the incident behind her and talks of a healthy and interactive relationship with her parents.

In Britain, the effort seems to be to integrate with British society and that is when identity becomes a complex issue. Like it is with Ashish, or "Ash" Singh, as the 19-year-old student likes to call himself. "I don't feel I am Asian," he says. "I have lived all my life in London and I see myself as a Londoner. And I prefer going to Europe for holidays."

ADOPTED CULTURE: Indian American youth live it up at the New York Desi party

For some the identity crisis leads to social ills. Farah Damji, editor of Indobrit-a youth lifestyle magazine-feels Asian youth do not have good role models. "We are from such a rich culture. But an increasing number of young boys dress like gangsters and follow black street culture," she points out. This happens predominantly in poor areas where they adopt other baggage that comes with it, like black music, the "angry young man attitude", little focus on education and therefore higher unemployment. Ferena Scott, a model from Glasgow who has grown up among such youth, says, "They think it's cooler to be black than Asian."

At the other end of the spectrum is a growing number that is comfortable with their identities. The western media's interest in all things Indian could be one reason. As filmmaker Shekhar Kapur says, "When I came as a student everyone wanted to be English, but today there is a pride in our culture." Asif Kapadia, the young film director of The Warrior, may call himself a London boy but his work reflects India.

Sody Kahlon of the hit comedy stage group Funjabis, who has performed on BBC, explains, "Being born and raised in Britain, one could say there is little distinction between Mr Singh and Mr Smith." It is not as simple for others. For Priya Akhoury of mixed parentage, the dilemma of identity was daunting. With an Italian mother and an Indian father, Akhoury, 26, a publicist with a pr firm in New York, had a mixed upbringing in a predominantly white neighbourhood. On the one hand, she faced racial slurs for not being Indian enough and on the other for not being white enough. But understanding parents gave her confidence. "They were always upfront about how I was different from the other children I grew up with, but that this was something always to be proud of," she says.

Seema Nayyar, editor-in-chief of New York-based American Demographics, too surmounted her identity pangs. Like most of her generation, she initially rejected everything Indian as pressures at home conflicted with her desire to "fit in". "Today, I still do not agree with all the traditions but am able to embrace Indian culture in parts rather than reject it outright," says the 34-year-old, now a successful media personality in the American mainstream.

The moot point, however, is that Indian-American children are often left to their own means because parents do not have their own experiences to draw upon. "Our parents came to the US by making big sacrifices. To justify their presence here, their expectations of themselves are very high," says Shoba Tummala, a 30-year-old Harvard Business School graduate now running a beauty salon in SoHo, downtown Manhattan. The result is a pressure on their children to be like them.

"We have a rich Asian culture but few role models. So now many young boys are adopting black street culture." Farah Damji 32 Editor, Indobrit, London

Some of that pressure has led to fatalities. According to the Washington-based Center for Disease Control, a 1997 study showed that suicide ranked as the leading cause of death among Indians aged 15 to 24-their most formative years. But if growing up is hard, given all the family pressure, making a professional choice when the time comes is harder. While some fall in with their parents' plans, many choose their own paths, ready to take on the hurdles that come their way. Vijay Iyer, for example, chose to be a professional piano player. Just 30, he is dubbed as one of the "new stars of jazz" by US News & World Report, and among "today's most important pianists" by The New Yorker. But it has been none too easy. "There is the experience of being brown-skinned in America. Skin colour affects every human interaction here, whether people acknowledge it or not," he says and then adds, "being brown marked me as different from the beginning, and that experience of difference, of peering in from the margins of the mainstream, is now an integral part of my consciousness."

Not surprisingly, many of the second generation are embracing non-traditional professions. Padma Rangaswamy, author of Namaste America and attached to the University of Illinois, thinks this trend is gaining ground. "The first generation did what they did, because they had to make it. These kids will reflect the choices of American life. Though armed with the right credentials, they may not do the traditional thing," she says.

Most often, young people imbibe culture and traditions at home through festivals celebrated or communication in their mother tongues. Teenager Madhav Vissa, for instance, uses the medium of dance to keep in touch with his Indian heritage. "At a young age, my parents encouraged me take lessons in Carnatic music. I am grateful to them as I pursue my learning and performances in both the arts. Also, I regularly attend Indian festive occasions and pujas around the Bay area (in San Francisco)," he says.

As they look ahead, the youngsters realise that they are in many ways the in-between generation. Rishi Mehta, who acted in Kevin Kline's Emperor's Club and is a student at New York University, believes that this is the major issue facing them. Raised in New Jersey, the 18-year-old whose girlfriend is Indian-American says, "For the most part, as you get older, I think a lot of ignorance you saw when you were younger goes away. I think a major issue we are faced with is how to go about carrying on our Indian tradition. Meaning just as our parents taught us, will we have enough knowledge to pass on to our children."

The mantle is inevitably passing on to the second generation of Indian immigrants. At the moment, this transition is happening to no particular script. But it is clear that Generation Next, born and raised in America or Britain, is considerably less compromising and very keen to etch its own identity distinct from its predecessors. Motwani probably has the last word on the subject. "They (our parents) raised us to stay under the radar so that we could be successful. It seemed like the right decision at that time, but it is now time to change that. As Indian Americans, we need to claim our space. I refuse to hear, 'go back to where you came from'."