KARACHI, March 7: As a child of 14, Akbari Sabir knew the outside world through the eyes of her elders. Her days had always begun and ended with the drudgery of menial tasks. An occasional sprint to the corner paan shop for a fix of supari brought immense joy and much admonishment.

She, like other girls in her family, awaited her own wedding primarily for some customary pampering and the fervour of various festivities. Other than that, marriage was just geography.

Akbari became a child-bride at 15 when she married Sabir, a first cousin who had been in love with her since childhood. She left Karachi to live with her in-laws in Nawabshah where she would cook, clean for and serve 22 members of the household.

Her husband worked at irregular intervals for a local shoe merchant. “He was never unkind but we did not have a steady income because he refused to work regularly,” she says.

However, she knew that she was luckier than the other women in her family and neighbourhood. “Sabir always brought food for me and spoilt me with presents like cosmetics and clothes. It was a blessing that he was not like my brothers-in-law.

He loved me and never raised his hand.”

Akbari, however, was also different from the rest of her ilk. “I always had an inner voice which said that life could be better but I did not know how and neither did I have the courage to leave the family home.”

After spending close to six years in Nawabshah, Sabir’s sporadic stints at the shoe merchant’s brought him to Karachi to make a few quick bucks in the run-up to Eid and he decided to stay on in the metropolis.

“We came here and he worked steadily for a few months. But one fine day, he decided to stay home and I had no food for my six children,” says Akbari about her turning point. “That was the last straw. I put them to sleep on a few glasses of water and decided that they will never be hungry again.”

Breaking away from family traditions and sanctions, Akbari set out to look for domestic jobs. “I began with working for a few affluent homes in the neighbourhood. I would cook and wash clothes and rush back to prepare lunch for my children,” she says of her days of struggle.

But few admired her for her resolve. “My family thought it was wrong and for the longest time I felt alienated. There were always undercurrents of intolerance.”

Almost two decades later, Akbari feels that she has earned a lot more than just acceptance.

“My lucky break came some 15 years ago when I came with my husband and children to a family as a maid.

My begum sahib treated me like a daughter. My youngest child was just four months old and she would tend to him while I completed my work,” she says.

Today, Akbari is a role model for her entire family. “My sisters started following in my footsteps.

The whole clan thinks I am well-off and have the best dressed and well mannered kids.

Now my independence is envied and I get so much respect that I am treated as an elder despite the fact that I have three older siblings.”

When asked whether she sees money as a guarantee for respect and comfort, Akbari’s retort is wiser than most of her educated counterparts. “No, contentment can only come if you do away with greed and believe that you will get what Allah thinks you deserve.” Solace, it seems, can be found in simple virtues.