My first insight into India was when I lived in a dormitory. It had designated Indian floors (7 to 9), and as one of the janitors explained, this was done "so that other students could study and live in peace." I never visited their floors, but sometimes, a sudden stench would fill the air, and as I was told, it came from the Indian floors. I refused to believe that at first and thought it was rotting trash somewhere or bad toilet plumbing. This changed one day when an Indian student from the 8th floor saw me playing on my laptop and asked to help him set up wi-fi.
When I set foot on their floor, the first thing I noticed was the unbearable stench of sweat, shit, dirty socks, various spices, and grease. The latter covered the floor and walls in a clearly visible layer, in addition to some stains, graffiti and drawings of naked women, tits, vaginas, and penises. There were also cutouts from porn magazines and dark spots on the ceiling — either mold or burn marks (the former was more likely since the Indians were on average one or two heads shorter than other students).
The room of the student who requested my help had some dusty carpets all over, as well as cheap chinese trinkets (coins, Buddha statues, etc.), stained female and male underwear, hockey masks, Indian flags, and a hookah (owning which was forbidden because it was considered a fire hazard). At least it didn't smell that bad thanks to the hookah.
This was way before the widespread Indian hate and even before the "Poo in the loo" campaign, so it was the first nail in the coffin of the Indian image for me. My current job involves dealing with them on a daily basis (an occupational hazard, so to speak), and while some are alright, most Indians are an absolute pain in the ass because they instinctively try to scam you have a very short temper, going psychotic when their inadequate requests are denied, all of which is constantly reinforcing my and everyone else's negative opinion on them.